by David Thompson
oh fuck...
and now if not for the semi-marginal idea of
gainful employment
my life...
i breath
i think
i think i breath
and this conundrum brings me sigh
just below in, right of of
now i know
where i belong is nowhere near
its a fist this blister it
this and i and me and of, i run and wait until it's kiss
fails to remember me
oh fuck...
and now if not for nothing else
my simple life
it occupies me
my absolute clarity
is dischordant with reality
i
meet myself halfway back from greeting being alone
with the honesty of loneliness
my life...
think wait weep
drink wait weep
so am i
stuck on prepositions
sorting out the we, us, you and i into hurtful stacks of photo album
memories
i fear to actually see
in the morning
i will hurt
hoping the hangover
makes me forget about the true reason i bleed
but it's all i know
forgetting music paint and touch i love
words and her and sculptures of
art is drunk in dirty glasses
tonight i leave it here