I’m Tired of Murder Mysteries

I’m Tired of Murder Mysteries

Weightlifting (off-my-back) magazines…

A little, itty-bitty, TV set…

Cigarettes, cigarettes, cigarettes,

rest quietly on the kitchen counter.

Regrets (no)?

…with time being just a phase;

and logic a form of rhythm,

Knowledge gets in constant conflict with Wisdom.

 ****

One shot of sad sunshine (going down!),

it hurts but I don’t mind.

-this is what lost ambition looks like-

The leaves they fall away from tress;

because, they’re tired and lazy;

-a hammock, a breeze, and a Long Island ice tea-

who can fight gravity?

It keeps me down; but, I just want to get fucked up.

****

Cut short like mom haircuts and cut-off jeans,

worn by those who in them shouldn’t be seen…

Your secrets’ safe(s) got broken,

opened, my eyes,

to pretty clean white lies.

Clean Coal®, Clean Coal®,

black, black,

Clean Coal®.

Online screens fight constantly with printed papers and magazines.

****

Please remove my sins,

like the tops of Appalachian Mountains.

I’m still trying to figure out how to exist,

within the context of this:

shit is fucked up and bullshit.

People are just watching each other,

kill each other.

I’m tired of murder mysteries.

Advertisements


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s