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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