Poetry / Cirque
I woke up with this thorn in my side
this chip still shouldered
Your face still brings this piss feeling
even after so long and the wrong dream
this life cycle
screws us all
this beautiful morality
And then there were two
left to shuffle the deck for an unplayed hand
shuffle
shuffle
Nothing to do but throw them down
We were already trumped
he asked questions and then just stopped
No more headway
I’m just glad I got my head out of the doorway
I got a peek at your hand and ran
he still wonders what you were holding
This rage I can hide and some days it’s gone
but others
My Heart gets the pleasure
“not so nice to see you again”
I see his eyes the same
a little more
his Heart couldn’t take the anger
that not-so-soft edge
It’s true about the eyes
Now the morning light has opened mine
it subsides after a few minutes of awakening
The light illuminates the whole picture
that small part becomes unfocused, thankfully
It is fleeting
fleeting, cyclical, hysterical
pawns left
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This was a good read. I was impressed by the fact that you didn’t rely too much on cliches to show how the cycle in the day or life works. For some reason I get the sense that if Charles Bukowski and Oscar Wilde had gotten together to write a poem, this would probably turn out from them. There are certain lines you could spruce up a bit such as “that not-so soft edge”. Once those little things are fixed up, this poem’s impact will definitely increase.
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