Poetic Licence….
I never promised you more than my Juliet,
Me being Romeo…
Walk the streets, the earth; as if I ever fucking cared….
For she was no muse just a pebble to cling on..
Now it would seem I float free with a thing on,
My back…
A weight…
A stone…
Emotionless motion less feeling and doing all that encompasses being tired me.
Pre-emption of death is worse than death in entirety
Moon washed the sky in ascent with no’triety.
I never sought to be more than a gut wrenched blood dripping teeth clenched Hamlet from past books we shared
And then fell apart.
That was me! --- the fallout king--- fool for a lifetime,
But at least I can sing.
At least I can show
The man on the opposite side of the mask dragged away in the undertow.
Why did I choose this life (this life chose me)fucking grit falsehood and spit on the street… a shame…. Left lame now.
Like all of the ostriches lined in a row heads in the sand, once again in the undertow..
Water is churning lungs burn systemic abhorrence---- annihilation--- her name?
Horror…
My Child?
Isabella. Forget about it,
Go lightly to sleep and then slumber well baby girl, I love you in droves.
And in short stabbing absinthe hits bread served in loaves.