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Literature
'tis the season
another december's defeated me
one more winter
playing host
to the ghosts
who keep leaving me
choking on hope
'til I'm hoping
they'll leave me be
broke-
n glittering
guts stuck
strung up
'round my bony tree
forced to flee
roots ruined
by
possibility
one flickering
light
disrupting the
circuitry
circling
certainty
searching
a certain we
surely she loves
but her I's
keep deceiving me
the present's
the past's
disappointments
wrapped up
so pleasingly
but
some things
shivery
as snow melt
as soon
as they appear
when the numbers
have no meaning
there's nothing
new
about the year
Literature
For Bukowski
Leaving so soon? It's
okay - we've come to expect it.
Visit every so often. Send a letter signed with a heart.
Every one will be placed unopened in the top drawer.
I
swear.
Answers are only excuses.
Disguises are
only wishes...
Genuine expressions of what we want to be.
Faded, tired, we finally
rest -
only to find that every day is another performance.
Marvelous! (the crowd cheers.)
Here is what they've come for.
Every single
last one of them. They don't want your
love, they want your pain. No one ever leaves disappointed.
Literature
gtod 1
he walks out of the bathroom,
deadfaced & serious.
he huddles in close,
locks eyes, and declares
Razorblade Superman.
I laugh 'til I fall out of my chair.
---
she sits up;
suddenly,
triumphantly.
she exclaims
I just remembered -
I can see the future!
I am in love.
Suggested Collections
from Albert to Zenaida
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Comments40
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Brilliant..