12.3k views, 2xBest Poetry Period. A nothing from nowhere cast words to a world wide wind. |
most kats don’t live as long as the poster on your wall once did, but i did baby was your poster not taped up, tacked up but wall paper hang in a mausoleum there of sheet rock covered pixels adorned and glowing red, dry eyes dull, throb robbed devoid memory of a story i cannot preserve as a limb needed it is what? it is generally accepted but what?? we watch a frozen scene no fire department came cling baby encouraging? random? words. what it is is what is it? fit me for a neck tie before window-displaying a crypt to be buried alive in it tip toe around a kitten m(n)otion-suspended not a mew roar and they/it/you cover you? who?? this poem should be (never written) seventeen years long that’s not how we measure it It is a thing isn’t it detached unlike baby shot by an unfeeling professional photographer isn’t it cruelty to an animal to preserve an image of anxiety-riddled disaster framed, hung, still vying for affection with a few, tiny, harmless words pondering … it is what it is and how comforting it would be to know what is it pronouns, proper nouns, Introductions and… will you just take the damn kat down from the tree! me? you?? Who??? Jezus !! 8.12.23 a post-hypnotic, mid-morning meandering. caught up on mail. how to reply? should reply?? it (me) is what (it)? Is?? Fine. FINE. fine?? what? WHAT?!! I’m hard of hearing. why do i…. This couldn’t possibly make less/more sense? Factor: 12 it was simple(r), before the first/final edit.
*leg* A book is coming…I keep telling myself…as all kinds of arbitrary deadlines near & pass…like blaring traffic. So, there’s that. |