Friday, September 18, 2009

Tired, Mad, Sobering

Television, oh God, stop!
Really, it's obnoxious.

Who was on the phone? Uh, just, later.
Where's the time gone? I had so much to do,
and then I had a few drinks.

Lazy fuck, or distracted- GOD!
I can't take the noise.

Toronto, fuck you.
Cement, queers, ugly
go to hell.
This angry spill is...

Or should I be more articulate?

Something like,

if lips could touch the soul,
I'd kiss my sad rage into your heart,
breathe sorry for me into your mouth
and take

if lips could touch the soul,
I'd paint chapstick all over and
kiss/fix your cracked and swollen spirit
only to doubt you

And still, after all that,
the television is being an asshole.

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