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Saturday, July 2, 2011

I used to say everything will work out one day

it always does

never the way I thought it may

drums bang as twitchs and turntables burn holes in my cerebral vortex

it holds my soul

not one lost poem is here in the cortex,all thats felt is love

smoldering hot headed passion that youd yell out of taxi windows whom you paid to circle the city all night

under the lights,red hearts melt as the cabbies stories are worth the fare alone

I exit early,tell him to vamanose

my hot breath is outlined in this desolated timeline of a night,not one building I pass registers

no wage is garnished in a single register,addreniline will be enough for dinner tonight

the mornings spray painted gold.

1 comment:

  1. Kind of gorgeous, William S. B. Thanks for it - a fine poem, indeed. Cerebral vortex!