trash
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We were just friends
But it wasn’t meant to be
I loved you
But you didn’t bother with me
Left me on read
Dingy green metal
Flecks of paint flaking off like dandruff
Corners set in stagnant water,
Leechy muck in the slimerot of the shadows
Little door slides open with a screech
Dear Earth,
Your rolling fields of amber grass,
Cerulean waves of primeval,
And skies painted with ripe orange, bubblegum, and perfect aubergine
Are no longer as beautiful as they once were.
A jumble of thoughts
Bunch of nonsense
Meaningless atoms
Combined into ashes
An infinite void
Of blinding black
Of looming white
Everything explodes
Into beautiful nothing
Years spent stuck in my old habits they're so hard to let go of
Dents in these walls, loco enough to blow, but i got no motive
So explosive they say i need a therapist, to attack my head like a terrorist
What death has become me?
Concrete depths towards nothing.
Consuming the delicious earth
hallowed out by passege ways of metal
and fire.
Electricity
Dirt
and
Trash.
The table stays
the wood is grey
a light sull yellowed
tingy yellow brown
when on the bench
the hobo sleeps
the homo weeps
the political correctness steeps
and for weeks and weeks
no soul in east williamsburg
thinking about something other than walk my baby to school today,
pour me a cup of iced coffee and put the lid on,
someone spare me some change for a metrocard,
It's simply
disgusting,
repugnant,
Completely and Utterly sickening.
The stench hits your nose first,
and through your gloves,
You can feel the cool muck leaking through the holes
I'd like to take a second, Only a second out of your day. Please, listen. What do you say? Rushing, running, racing. Always in a hurry, almost like a chase. Not caring about others, or taking in the Earthly surroundings in your face.
just go retire. get fired. now. please.oh wait. we can’t get rid of you?then you might as well listento what all you trashy teachersalways have to say
Voice…what is it?
Why is it that there are so many types?Some have voices…like the Mona Lisaand others have it as the crushedpaper you find in wastebaskets.
Looking for a warning sign
Amidst Earth’s complex design
Light little plastic bags
Jellyfish to the turtles with our tags
Our pistons out on an ego trip
Guzzling so fast, we need an IV drip
