I don’t write sweet poems ~ Poetry

Chairs window pains and picture frames hold secrets
Misunderstood with tradition and verbs
Rifts creeks crevices and curves obey commands and surgically implant paranoia with bad words
I can see invisible people watching me hiding in the seams
While drums beat heavy from the rear of my twisted dreams


Naturally it’s the thing I wear


Everything is not always as beautiful as it may appear
I whisper truth to myself and pretend not to hear


Till poetry becomes aggressive and lines become smeared
Time has no expiration date and statute of limitations don’t exsist


Don’t ever get distracted it’s not always easy to resist


The thoughts


And I don’t write sweet poems


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