Felt like writing a poem. It’s crap, but maybe I’ll do something with it. Plus, today is the poetry slam, so I guess it makes sense.
There’s a hole
in my head.
It stinks inside.
Stupid.
There’s a hole
in my mind
where eyes and lies and thighs
used to pair up
and fill me up.
There’s a hole
in your face
and a cigarette
in my head.
There’s a hole
in this thing
called …
There’s a hole, and
using only words,
I try to fill in the blanks.
There’s a hole
in my head.
And my thoughts tumble out
like dead tuna.
There’s a hole, and
with your hair and skin still stuck
under my nails,
I try to paint them back.
5 Comments
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{O.o)
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O RLY
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I am going to find, shoot, and eat those damned owls. And they shall taste like chicken, and I shall be contented at last.
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O BNY?
Damn. The madness has spread to the whole menagerie.
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