Saturday, March 15, 2014


Another mediocre poet
Cracks his head on the dream table
Spits his nails at the fogged window
Puts on his bright blue
Suicide outlook
Pruning experience from his fingers
Forgiving god for his lateness
Shaking fists at a sky
Made slow by torrential rain
Held back by jello motion
Lifted up by shifting plates
Grinding against one another
In the unforgiving dirt.

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