deepundergroundpoetry.com

date night

my back curves, my neck falls    
Away from the torrent of dull spearheads thudding-a-drumbeat    
I know it is a rain-dance. They fall on my chest. They might as well be    
Pure acid pouring down for all the difference I care.    
I call the invocation:    
“take me take me have my life my soul my body or all three    
If it makes up the numbers” but nobody hears me over the crashing    
Of wasted water. This is not about me.    
   
In the shower-fogged glass I paint on my mask.    
I’ve got the colours wrong. the Joker never wore    
Pastel lipstick.    
   
If only life were like movies. You get a gun    
Shoot everyone down & then Cut! They get up no harm done    
No hard feelings. you can kill them over and again.    
I am one of the disfigured.    
Life teaches us that a scarred face is a scarred soul    
A scarred wrist is a liar’s ‘get out of jail free’ card.  
I am one of the liars. I am going to meet God,    
But not by the bullet train.    
I’d like to make the right impression.
Written by 010101110110100101 (053927598376y93870873109)
Published | Edited 18th Nov 2012
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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