Poetic Slurrings


I was 21, so was the scotch flowing through my vains
i couldn’t stop living,
to save the life of me,
I couldn’t stop living.
Whats the point of it all if you don’t pull the seems,
tear at the edges,
peal away the crumbling wallpaper of the human before you.

To drink.
To gamble.
To steal.
To fuck.
To fight.
To love.
To Live on the thrill of the moment thats forever escaping us all.
Wouldn’t it be nice.
If that moment couldn’t bear the significance
we so humbly inscribe upon it


I get that I’m not perfect
But I’ll always try to be.
Strip me down
To that

Hotel bars

Old lonely fucks
Drunk at the hotel bar
Talking only About their children
A world away.

Her #2

Why do you torture me
With that figurative
Implication your
Dress would assume.

Blacking out

I never go out to
Hit the town
the town hits


One thought on “Poetic Slurrings”

  1. him
    all frightning moments of life
    were speared with flashes of beauty
    no matter what was observed –
    dried with cancer hands of my father
    reminding the bird feet
    on the day of his burial..
    and the peaceful sunset
    which triumphed some hours later.
    the whole day today in the city
    without you
    i couldn’t notice
    a slightest presence of beauty
    in anything.
    that is what frightens me


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