I have been reading Buk again
Never really got around to the novels
But the half hour before work gets longer by the day
So i sit in the cold
The paper feels good between my fingers

What an asshole
He is describing anger and resentment in
Twenty different ways with subtext
Only it's like he's describing a film he's watched
A handful of times
So apathetic
So appealing and
I think i figured him out
In all his manic deppressive drunken glory

People like him
Like me
Our failures weigh on us
They outweigh our accomplishments
So we put the face on
And tell the story

Why do you write? Why would you?
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summultima PoetSpeak
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