anotherlongshot (anotherlongshot) wrote,

poem: 9 a.m.

So this reddish sun makes it exit
behind the cluttered wall
nevermind that it has never shined
for a century
and so we all clip that fucking tongue
throw it to the alley cats
who dance down the troubled Niagara
all the way to the raging sea.

you shade red grey
colour white black
and never cease to amaze me
with your narrow view of Paradise.
Tags: poems

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