deepundergroundpoetry.com

Radford Reserve

Iím obsessing over a
terrible person

Iím in Studio Center looking
for moral support

Iím at the mall buying
something that will
make me happy

Iíll always wish I didnít
let you slip through
my greedy fingers

eclipses in the heart

epileptic shock

things talked about in
the dark

soothing words werenít
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 couldnít
tell the difference?

incremental successes

I couldnít miss

I was buried in the
Smithsonian in
1996

glued together off
ether

we couldnít stand the
reefer,

we didnít 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

Iím 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?

Iím leaving on a
higher level

there is no satisfaction

Iím operating on a
murderous level

letís get real sloppy

letís go out barhopping

and cop feels from every
harpy we encounter

gun under the mattress

knife in the duvet

mace in the pillowcase

you canít stop the bleeding

wretched souls upon
wretched souls

this was the holocaust of
ideas

this was an industrial
wasteland

the Irish couldnít figure
out, neither the Scots
nor the Kurds

Iím letting something annoy
me that shouldíve 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 canít live your life on
hypotheticals

diabolical tyrants waiting
in reserve

godís plans? what about
my plans?

a rhetoricís revolt

massage titties in full force

I wish I knew when they
were going to love
you again

but I canít see, I canít
do, I canít feel

Iíve got one card left in
my pocket and itís not
going to help this hand



Taurek
Written by Taurek
Published
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