Thoughts of Jen
I have been in thinking of you,
Jen, and as I lay around,
The bed rubbed against my back
Like a coffin. The music
Played to tape’s end and was silent.
I was dead to the world; in my heart
They were conducting an autopsy;
On my brain they were shoveling the dirt.
Yet what was in me for you
Burnt as hot in my blood
As flames at a cremation.
Then I moved enough to get drunk.
Where were you? Midnight
Is filled with loser poets
Scribbling their problems in black ink.
My burial in a tomb of drink continues,
And my elbows are convicted of murder.
okay... and which jen might this be?
ReplyDeleteI wrote that in college, about my best friend at the time.
Deletethe more i read it, the more i like it. you'd done well here, dude. :]
DeleteRakes the blasé surface to reveal the threads of lingering desire. Good work here.
ReplyDeleteGuilie @ Life In Dogs
You're too kind.
DeleteThanks for stopping by.
This is so good and I think many men have been guilty of have a few too many
ReplyDelete