deepundergroundpoetry.com
Radford Reserve
I’m obsessing over a
terrible person
I’m in Studio Center looking
for moral support
I’m at the mall buying
something that will
make me happy
I’ll always wish I didn’t
let you slip through
my greedy fingers
eclipses in the heart
epileptic shock
things talked about in
the dark
soothing words weren’t
needed now
there was something
growing somewhere
else
as I massage your
tattooed hand
you caress my cheek and
I feel nothing
I feel bad and I need a
drink and a bong load
old friends that are
literally old, emailing
you on their birthday
looking for sympathy and,
whatever, knowing you
were on your last straw
6:25 PM
listening to Nas
listening to Lips
listening to the
mainstream
machine
vaxxed to keep a job I
needed to keep the
condo in that beachside
community
oscillating between sex
and appeal
I want to see this
bitch earn her
keep
something that just
happened,
snake bitches
how come you couldn’t
tell the difference?
incremental successes
I couldn’t miss
I was buried in the
Smithsonian in
1996
glued together off
ether
we couldn’t stand the
reefer,
we didn’t see the
need for another
Liam Neeson
vehicle
we wanted something real
you were a squirmy,
slippery cod fish and
no matter how much
seasoning was applied,
there was still something
left to be desired
I’m feeling disappointed
why did you have to
do that?
why was it funny to have
ever known you?
why were you the
epitome of
lame?
I’m leaving on a
higher level
there is no satisfaction
I’m operating on a
murderous level
let’s get real sloppy
let’s go out barhopping
and cop feels from every
harpy we encounter
gun under the mattress
knife in the duvet
mace in the pillowcase
you can’t stop the bleeding
wretched souls upon
wretched souls
this was the holocaust of
ideas
this was an industrial
wasteland
the Irish couldn’t figure
out, neither the Scots
nor the Kurds
I’m letting something annoy
me that should’ve already
been baked in the cake by
now
the left is, like, driving around
a shitty car because it was
less likely to get stolen
you can’t live your life on
hypotheticals
diabolical tyrants waiting
in reserve
god’s plans? what about
my plans?
a rhetoric’s revolt
massage titties in full force
I wish I knew when they
were going to love
you again
but I can’t see, I can’t
do, I can’t feel
I’ve got one card left in
my pocket and it’s not
going to help this hand
terrible person
I’m in Studio Center looking
for moral support
I’m at the mall buying
something that will
make me happy
I’ll always wish I didn’t
let you slip through
my greedy fingers
eclipses in the heart
epileptic shock
things talked about in
the dark
soothing words weren’t
needed now
there was something
growing somewhere
else
as I massage your
tattooed hand
you caress my cheek and
I feel nothing
I feel bad and I need a
drink and a bong load
old friends that are
literally old, emailing
you on their birthday
looking for sympathy and,
whatever, knowing you
were on your last straw
6:25 PM
listening to Nas
listening to Lips
listening to the
mainstream
machine
vaxxed to keep a job I
needed to keep the
condo in that beachside
community
oscillating between sex
and appeal
I want to see this
bitch earn her
keep
something that just
happened,
snake bitches
how come you couldn’t
tell the difference?
incremental successes
I couldn’t miss
I was buried in the
Smithsonian in
1996
glued together off
ether
we couldn’t stand the
reefer,
we didn’t see the
need for another
Liam Neeson
vehicle
we wanted something real
you were a squirmy,
slippery cod fish and
no matter how much
seasoning was applied,
there was still something
left to be desired
I’m feeling disappointed
why did you have to
do that?
why was it funny to have
ever known you?
why were you the
epitome of
lame?
I’m leaving on a
higher level
there is no satisfaction
I’m operating on a
murderous level
let’s get real sloppy
let’s go out barhopping
and cop feels from every
harpy we encounter
gun under the mattress
knife in the duvet
mace in the pillowcase
you can’t stop the bleeding
wretched souls upon
wretched souls
this was the holocaust of
ideas
this was an industrial
wasteland
the Irish couldn’t figure
out, neither the Scots
nor the Kurds
I’m letting something annoy
me that should’ve already
been baked in the cake by
now
the left is, like, driving around
a shitty car because it was
less likely to get stolen
you can’t live your life on
hypotheticals
diabolical tyrants waiting
in reserve
god’s plans? what about
my plans?
a rhetoric’s revolt
massage titties in full force
I wish I knew when they
were going to love
you again
but I can’t see, I can’t
do, I can’t feel
I’ve got one card left in
my pocket and it’s not
going to help this hand
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