A new page,
a clean slate,
a chapter,
or after
another
“Oh Brother”
of a day.
Is it something you dwell on?
Or do you put it in the past and move on?
A word can be a page,
pending on how it is portrayed.
And the rest is background,
merely grey fading away.
Or is it?
Maybe it is something more,
but we don't know what it is just yet?
Too much, too soon, too late.
It wasn’t enough
to make this cliché
seem more meaningful somehow someway.
All the while
it’s not about what I say,
but what people think of this smile,
midst my charade…
Either way we will both be o.k.
No matter how unreal
or literally how corrupt I feel.
Everyone still hopes for a glimpse
of something permanent.
Maybe just a better way.
Cause they deserve it??
A devastating train wreck,
Each day a new train wreck,
after train wreck.
Something so beautiful and surreal,
yet otherwise perfect.
Who doesn't love a parade?
Like a woman’s love,
Her touch, her blood,
The way she feels……
Me and Tolstoy agree.
That women as a society
are a necessary unpleasantry….
That must be avoided indefinitely.
All of this means so much.
Yet likely not close to enough.
But if you wake up tomorrow
and think that life is too tough;
Think what it would be like
in a world without love.
lamemansterms
|
Submission Name: Dwelling Days
