bad poetry

i’ve slept so much in the last few days
i hate sleep, such a waste of time
but I’m catching up I suppose

winter is so long
and all we do is whine
and drink
and work
and fuck
and eat
and sleep
simplicity
the eerie glow of television
haunts most homes this time of year
and that tired and solitary white
i talked about is creeping along
at an unsteady pace
reduction, with ready-made realization
that holds the soul of a man close to
reconditioned and temporary reconciliation

split personalities are fighting
for literary dominance with
too many ideas rolled into one joint
sometimes I think it’s better
to put it all down at once
and let it ferment

there’s a commuter programmer
walking in the desert
what the world needs is more super heros
and only Hollywood hears the call
a man on the corner is deftly
hawking tee shirts and LSD
with obese cops closing in for the kill
the free market took a dump
and left me wondering
where is my Libertarian paradise?

i wish these words were a journal
but they’re not, they’re just
ideas that drip in an unreal daydream
filling that space
to evolve so completely
little steps and always reminders
waiting for that perfect moment
that will never come
it’s good to have friends
that make you laugh though

 

 

 

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