Honestly, I'm a Liar, & Other Balances & Imbalances

April 19, 2010

Phamalogical Cars

Filed under: poetry, prose — Tags: , , , , , , , — namelessneed @ 4:29 am

My body suspects I’m still self-respectful

When I go and swallow a handful of pills

All my doctors direct me to down them

Before bed where she waits there

For her old man to come there

For her old man to come.

I reckon I’ll say I am an Okay old wreck

And I recognize that there’s more than a hint

I’m a nice but not mint

                                                  old wreck.



Somebody suspects she’s still healthy

She just says no  to chemo therapy, no handful of pills

But the doctor suggested she

Just go with good meds

Just a boost to bolster up heads

When grey clouds are displaced by blacks

Painful tears fall   / rain squalls.

You hope after a sound sleep,

To cope, you have found peace

When you surface  I recognize

You are a beautiful wreck

I reckon we’re beautiful wrecks

I see us  as still waiting,

still water

still running

beautiful wrecks

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