Just wrote a poem and deleted it
Okay, now I Breathe
But the song is sad.
Only I listen, because I am in love,
And so I breathe.
Yes. I breathe
Only, I wish life didnt trivialize and parody itself,
Because I need this:
Lily Allen, Something’s Not Right –
Now Odezsa, Kusanagi
Feels as rich as umami
It. has. been a. tough. week.
Smoke, and – pause. . .
My nightstand is mine,
Replete with blue bandana, overflowing with books
I’d brag –
But you wouldnt know them anyway:
My tastes in books as alienating as my tastes in persons,
Or so the bourgeous prole in me said
But now I must put him to bed
So the poet in me may sleep,
That the man again may have a life of peace
For there are beasts – wolves too,
To whom we are sheep,
But we may rest now
For the beasts too need sleep.
And a famous persons name may now be added here to lend credibility,
Oh, but I think you not the credulity –
To believe me of such insecurity,
As if my poem werent good enough for me
That I wouldnt publish it.
Were I undedicated, I wouldnt be so hated.
Chasing wildest dreams like he’s gonna make it
Heaven knows how long my talent felt wasted.
But I want to feel talent –
To have tasted it –
Written, rewritten, and written it again
Oh give me my sweet sin again,
That I wont waste it:
Erasing omens and odes
Worse crimes fitting a criminal,
You wrote more than code
And that is of note.