All the acronyms
And the idioms
Join to take refuge in the joints
in the ache of the home you give them
through Autumn's rage and Summer's death
we lose what makes that only perfect word our own
lose a sense of control we give them
Winter's vitality as nothing we could ever
hope to grasp
hidden in the back of our drawers
drawn close together with a shiver
basked in regret
Where the poets live.
Fantasy and horror
the pain of November
live up to your name,
and match kindle for our flame.
Spoken through your actions,
use one small finger as you fight to discover
who was really to blame.
It doesn't take that much, as all the races have decided.
It doesn't blemish you anymore than you have been.
Don't wither away to somewhere I can't reach you,
and recall all the vision
to find any solace, you were never this calm before,
never this sure.
You've had to take it in order to see
that it didn't matter.
Just lose faith, lose metaphors and literacy has no choice
but to bend.
Get lost with me
so they can fight it out,
While we use our words.
And remember never to tell
Where every old story lives.
Creative and arrogant
ruin it all before it can begin.
All the synonyms don't mean a thing.
We're right here, hardly any time has passed, since you were who you needed to be.
It's going to fucking end soon anyway.
We take our hearts too seriously, and leave the strength in our bones to fight on.
Take all the riddles and the pain
And laugh at the future
Where the last page lives.
YOU ARE READING
Stream of Consciousness
PoetryCome join us you emancipators from reality, You who wouldn't die for anything in this world, Though we are no more than martyrs. We'll never care for you, but you'll gain so much. We all have something worth hearing, and We all have something to le...
