segunda-feira, 1 de novembro de 2021

waking up to the thought of violence making it to second base.

 cold allies with chill beacons of winter 

said winter flirts with November mid Fall

Mondays are superior by human design

for what matters you see

is not the name but the timing

order and misery of being dead first

a solemn freaky weekly occasion of fucking it up

to norm, a mourn stare moan and sigh

expel expendable little breath at will

can one pour on draft to match the steady rain?

do rein in your misery dear

no booze or drugs for me either,

I prefer my sufferings raw

a sobering kept on check and on tap

the sirens contradict my rights

obscured by bleak binds 

pins, needles and dirty nails curve my spine

scratch my gums, untried tasteful mental decline

animals in disarray breakout of their cage at night

to party alongside me. 

so I dream it vividly

so I deem it right.

a trip out not a ladder nor a scale

less of a bright slide or a trampoline that's wet

a bridge awaits without reproach when it is dark outside

for one to be careless and awake caring perhaps

a little less, for to forgo fate is to deny

that if one cannot save oneself and wish to burn,

others too cannot save them.

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