Puke Poetry

Heart like a hand grenade, fully-automatic weapon for a mind.

Tuesday, January 30, 2007

Fireworks

all i can see
clearly, that is
in between all that's blurred
and fuzzy
are the fireworks
in your gut
and you tripping
over my feet

i hear the forced
civility
and conversation
you wish was casual

all i know is
if that came out of my mouth
my hands, my mind
wherever
you'd hate me even more
and have nothing
but venom for me.

this is me
on my raft
floating off
alone.

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