Thursday, February 23, 2012

This Poem's a Mess, and Has No Point

I'll highlight my life in black ink
and let it go word for word.

Trying to simplify the point
which I've written over and over again
losing nothing in translation,
and he just opens my drawers
like I'm some sort of Salvador Dali painting.

So he peeks inside and sees a crumbled mess
knowing that we're nonetheless alike.