June 24, 2010

June 24, 2010


Can drive any insane.

The ones that feel

What’s being written

I’m about this way

Too many words spoken

You know what I mean

Wordsworth and Keats,

Along with the rest.

Let’s stand on a mountain top,

Feel the fleeting whispers

Of agony just because

We can’t take the beauty of it all anymore.

You say that’s been done?

It has.

Does it mean it’s too late?

So then, we should jump.

Jump off the mountain top.

Oh, wait.

That’s been done before.


I’ve got the crazies.

I want to be,

And I’m not.






Modern experimentalISM

And everything that came before.

It’s no wonder,

My sheets are dirty

My head is cracking

And this

Comes out.

It keeps coming

Out of us all

Believe you me,

Better you document


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