We bear the same initials, T. S. E.
And so I thought we must be kindred souls
I thought the words we’d bring the world to see
Might mark the heights of reaching lofty goals
But words are as directionless as thought
If thoughts become our words, the world is lost
Cacophony is music that we bought
Before we knew, poetically, the cost
These half deserted streets are mine alone
“What is it?” was the thought I thought to speak
But poetry is that to which I’m prone
Poetic circus needs poetic freak
The mermaid cunts were singing, each to each
And I was hungry, so I ate a peach.
This entry was posted on Monday, March 6th, 2023 at 10:40 pm and is filed under Submissions and Posts. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
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