joi, 7 septembrie 2017

hangover - poem

sitting on the edge of a skyscraper
wishing I’d be on top of a mountain
so, if I’d be to collapse, at-least
the air would be crisp and fresh and light
I cannot stand the noise outside,
like a fly buzzing in the bedroom at night
frustrated by my lack of sweet blood
it mingles with the whirlwind inside and
sends me flying towards nothing
I can’t see clearly because of all this blood
the agonizing screech of love and lust and
the joke that we make of it all
the entrails of my feelings
the guts of my energy.

I saw a dog today, all he did
was sigh and follow strangers
to the train station
is that all that we are now?
sitting on the edge of a skyscraper
the thoughts, the thoughts, the thoughts
my own personal firing squad,
inserting bullets in my carcass
all day, all night
I woke up after the summer
throwing up my ego
as people tell me to let go
the hangover of it all
came like death from above

you take a puff and close your eyes

and the next day, you’re grown up and alone.

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