I'm not trying
To pronounce a standard sorrow.
And I don't want you snapping fingers
When I'm done
If you'll forget these fucking words tomorrow.
Just
Let it pass in front of you
Like a fog.
A fleeting haze
That'll clear up before fall.
And every leaf will tumble.
Product of a rumbling wind.
Trees undressed
Will show
What withered pride we're in.
You shine finesse.
You whine the best.
You blind the rest
With fine duress.
You're quixotic,
At the very least melodic
With your quest to render us hypnotic messes.
Surrender us
To your pen.
Sickness prepackaged.
Distributed
Again
And
Again.
Or please, instead...
Rip the flesh of sound apart
And show us what you found
Inside a bitter heart.
Peel the crimson pump
One story at a time
And chances are
It won't cause dreamy eyes
Or even rhyme.
Let beady eyes
Do the staring for once.
And extend these stanza chunks into longer lines, so much in fact that they coil disgustingly around your tongue and down your spine.
Get snake bit.
Shit, eat venom
If you?re really gonna make it
Happen...