Title: Evening Courting Author: Sigur Rós
I sit up for hours in a pungent pit My eyes bleary cracks Artificial light blares out loud shit Can’t relax Hours pass without my noticing Two tissues down, still counting Artificial fun’s coaxing Doubting I’ve become the man on the screen He’s wanking for hours and snuffling Rootling in his own muck Sense of time evades us I am nocturnal with the millions of other anonymous penes Minutes slow down as faces pass fleetingly in the darkness We muscle in on each other’s soul mates Dick done Next for a cheap thrill Finger working tirelessly My world is ill Write a poem instead To kid myself I’m alright That it doesn’t matter that I’m a lonely adult High on false hope night after night Comments on "Evening Courting"
This poem has no comments yet.
|
|