Sunday, December 6, 2009

in quiet hours [it'll be good someday]

i go from queasy
to horny
to blank
to hot
and i jot down my thoughts
confused by the knot
of the plot that i bought from the
girl or some name i forgot
and i scribble all this dribble
from my chin onto the page
and pretend that my age ain't
what's got my rage all in cages
but put out on stages in the stages of waged youth
and i gauge all my hate towards my peers
as i leer and i slate the date and write it down
to relate what i can to others or to sate
what i engage backstage as the judgement of all that grates against me

that was all bullshit but i wish i could write

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