THE MUCK

 

I’m too fucked up

to care

 

& all I heard

was write like Keats

& make the bleeding hearts

cream in their jeans.

 

But that just

wasn’t my scene

to bootleg emotion

& sell it in a bottle

at premium cost.

 

Duty free love

wasn’t available

& I ended up

in a mess again.

 

I’ll make them wade

through the muck

just to find

that one singular jewel.



 

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