a poem for today, 17 November 2012
[a word-sorted sonnet of sixteen sentences and its image]
You lie there naked.
Just the bare bones.
This argument doesn’t stand up.
I'll never make you smile.
In a non-defined, non-conventional way, yeah.
Masturbation is like a personal thing.
Creation which cannot express itself becomes madness.
You make white trash look positively top-drawer.
Pain is okay, it's a part of life.
Your rhythm is boring you sound the same.
I believe I am in Hell, therefore I am.
They're not part of consciousness as we know it.
I was pretty sure you were gonna fuck me.
The universe is a flaw in the purity of non-being.
Stay open.
Get high.
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