Friday, December 17, 2010

Fatty the poet : Its about what every other poem is about

syringe or vile or pipe

floating through a grey dusted alley

chased by burned fingers

the minds eye thirst and tricks for fantasy

this is how I dance now.

slow and alone in the nightmares of a pariah

where am i now and where is my God to shade me from the vengeful sun?

over a cream filled coffee some peoples lives become able to bear

only under another flesh and saliva do I live wholly

sinked in teeth

i vamp for security

the drugs, the blood, the addiction, the sport

everything is about the same thing.

collection in a plate

wine in a glass

redness in the hands.

hopeless is the only adjective to  survive without displacing itself

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