Day 1187

…I have placed the poet

Face down

Behind me

His whips are words of wonder

Striping punctuation from my

Hiding spot where I had my first kiss

Stolen behind an upturned mattress

She asked her mother if it was alright first

(I never did learn how to say no to women)

His ultraviolet proclamations reveal

Every room is history is covered in the forced ejaculate of inevitability

And me I find no peace

No predilection towards reneging on my part of the privacy agreement

I still haven’t bothered to read

Can I give to you a conspiracy of hope without

Having to lose my place in line

Or are we all just waiting to budge

(First the worst, second the best, third the nerd)

While some one else does the heavy lifting

But who among us has danced alone while the room watched

And lived to not share the tale…

 

 

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