Tired of broken poems
and broken loans
and broken pencils
scribbling
half truths
about half loves
that
fucked and sucked
my body
and mind into an oblivion
of futile desire
never satisfied
with the moment
always wanting forever
until the moment ends
and I'm left
writing tear stained poems
surrounded by glasses stained red
endless wine drops
endless memories
looping in my blue veins
this is
my last fucking goodbye
no more spoiled moments
only
writing words that spilt the redundant brain from the heart
only writing words of self salvaging
only writing poems that
tell the whole truth
like
know thyself
know thy fucking self.
these
words
are
my re- introduction
my
re establishment
of equilibrium of self
inside and outside
of
love stories
and
solitude.
