Sunday, July 13, 2008

how perfectly god-damned delightful it all is to be sure

my destiny is to live
between hangovers and warm 'hellos'
and go from an angry sleep
in your brothers bed
to some time spent alone
which i capitalize on by doing the dishes in the nude
collecting as many spare socks as i can
and longing for the green lake,
and the time when we talked about it.

good grammar and your girlishness
wont save you today, or even tomorrow
even if the hole is shallow,
we'll still bury you
because i'm making friends for life
the kind that go out of their way
to save me,
and let the wind do the fucking you over.


Keith said...

i feel as though this poem has more focus than some of your other works. i enjoyed this very much.


p.s. if you dont know what "hags" is, just ask simon...

Blake said...

more like