#drunkpoetrycircle

this poem is an effort at sanity, adrift in so much utter calamity. it is a reverse prayer to the gods and a question asked of the planets. this poem is built from steel, and steam and flame, and cheese too. this poem does not ask permission, it tells permission, gently, to FUcKing fuck off. these poem makes me think of water, of the oceans. of all that water. this poem reminds me to sing in places where I would normally be so silent, this poem doesn't pretend to be anything more than it is. this poem is absolutely everything. this particular line itself carries more weight than the moon. during one season this poem was inhabited by thousands of green ants and they used it to float down a river that was really a stream from a sewer runoff. this poem has never been on time to a single class, not one. this poem beat up the bullies in grade school and gave all the kids their lunch money back. this poem holds up my pants when I forget to wear a belt and holds me up when I'm too tired to stand any longer. and just think, I wrote it for you.

i hear a lawnmower try to start. i hear footsteps outside this apartment. i try not to picture deformed dwarves stalking the hallway, try not to envision police with a warrant. all i have left is this. starting over at life again and again and again, each time crushed by the piano of disappointment in my self.