ok, im leaving this retarded poem here a little longer.. its been here for about 2 years or so now and i wrote it about 4 years ago and its definately not even close to one of my best but since im not really one to open my inner self up to people, you get one of the not so good things i've written to read. jolly good fun, eh?
| It's
calm and quiet outside. the candle flickers. look around, no one's there.
keep writing. the words flow like water, then they stop. look around again.
it's getting pretty late. pretty dark now. there's no moon; one or two
stars. the crickets chirp louder. or is that the ringing in your ears?
light another cigarette. listen to the same record you have been for the
past week/month/year. the ozone's fucked. the cat's missing half it's whiskers
as it runs into the fence. there's a party down the street. again. just
like every week. nothing ever changes. eat the same food, see the same
people, everyday. there's no fun. no excitement. apathy surrounds. same
as this time last year and the year before. voices are around, but sound
so far away. have another beer. light another cigarette. none of this really
matters because you never finish what you start anyways... (to be continued) |