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butter`fly robots & sand`witches


today I said my good byes
turned my back
on those little poems
etched by those little pens
words. vowels. verses.
that were never truly my ''friends'' …today
I died in a cup of cheap gourmet coffee
as I listened to this voice
transmitting from a radio'd menu …
there are no specials today   just the old
and absurd and burnt grilled cheese sand'witches
and that occasional chef poet
who spits poison ink
and kills the beauty of cocooning butterflies
envying those who wish
to spread their wings elsewhere  …even a poet
will keep you down.


there was a time
when I meant something to no one
I was       irrelevant, insignificant
wearing mascara in a chlorinated swimming pool
now I reek of chaos and disaster – please don't read my poetry
because there's really nothing there
but the void and temperate and
how I've come to detest ingesting
the mere reads of you

then the waitress approaches   humming, strumming her smock
take me to church, and somewhere a cosmic'bot
whispers clarity in my ear while tuning
the nuts & bolts of my cerebrals:  

I think you're beautiful
but you're only wasting
your talent                             here



yes, take me to church
I have an infinite supply of orgasmic poetry

DevlinDLC
Written by DevlinDLC
Published
Author's Note
you're still crying?
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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