I back away whenever I’m too close.
I make a joke whenever it’s too real.
Love is the drug on which I overdose.
Feeling it makes me feel as if I feel.
Days are for loss and struggle, nights for grieving.
Dreams are for digging tunnels till I’m free.
I know it’s wrong, but I can’t help believing
If I don’t move, the world will come to me.
The self-worth car I’m driving is a clunker.
I weave the rope on which my hopes are hung.
Deep down inside, I’m Hitler in the bunker
Hallucinating Götterdämmerung.
And when I’m dead, my life will be a quarrel
That offers either false hope or a moral.
2 comments:
Fucking brilliant!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! .... was reading David Brooks this morning ( The Benedict Option) and then I stumbled across this masterpiece... my day is made. I'm going back to bed and waiting for tomorrow.
I have to agree! YES! Worth all the struggle -- if you hadn't said, I would not have guessed. It works so well. And on so many levels. AWESOME esp the final couplet
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