deepundergroundpoetry.com
This is all rehearsal,Baby.
Confused,this tilted ground gives way
through disgust ,through disillusion
these delusions I have given away.
You look at the pages
try to guess the chapters
then it faces a sharp re-write
and your staring over an unfamiliar city walking to a destination out of sight.
A phone call forms the fragments of another era
the pages are all torn
I used to have faith a god was listening
the perfect sadness when there is no floor to fall.
through disgust ,through disillusion
these delusions I have given away.
You look at the pages
try to guess the chapters
then it faces a sharp re-write
and your staring over an unfamiliar city walking to a destination out of sight.
A phone call forms the fragments of another era
the pages are all torn
I used to have faith a god was listening
the perfect sadness when there is no floor to fall.
Published 6th Apr 2012
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