a man without a title

gimme gimme gimme
that 64 bit heart
with heads turned
like mocking birds
it all leads up to
this moment
then the next
till
that swell swallows you
whole
these days are
too long
and the nights
too short
cold with only a hound dog
to keep you company
do you remember
when it was a big deal
to get drunk
now it’s just something to do
on a sunday afternoon
and these words come form
different moments
times and places
mixed together
torn out and thrown away
and resurrected later
i put it on the shelf
for awhile
and let it stare at me
in mocking disarray
till the time was right
for divine intervention

 

 

 

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