Naked poems

I’ve hated poems
Truly hated the longer ones,
Wound up and unfurled like fastballs,
All that kinetic energy exploding.

Toward another destination
The object of which is to miss
Entirely, something written blankly
Against the frail night hope.

I’ve hated poems.
The stupid way they lie there.
You want to roll them up
And toss them hard,

Like dead bodies from a train,
Like dead women you dismantled,
Like stains upon the carpet,
Blood let by accident.

Truly deadened poems, may as well,
Be a girl you dated briefly,
Wanting friendship, yet you groped,
Longing just one kiss of meaning.

I’ve hated poems.
Cursed their stubborn lives,
Refusing to depart this world,
As if the cab had tried,

But held instead, arguing
We against the ink yet
Managing to cajole a trip upstairs
And into my bed at 3:15.

I’ve hated poems,
Only to wake and love their
Quiet curves among the early
Shadows, laying so alone.


About Pitboss14

Cosmic surfer of paradoxes.
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