Author Information
Prime Time
When I was younger,
I mistook
passion for talent
and thought poems
should always be free-verse because
oh my god true poetry could never be contained or commercialized in these wild buck's eyes.
Childish.
Didn't know I was only
ranting and raving
until the tears stopped
and so did the wordstream.
Wasn't I better at this?
An untamed soul?
The next mark in the written world!
Next thing I know
I'm writing myself
into corners like this;
trying to recall
the way I scribbled
on scraped knees,
as if the disease
would never stop feeding me.
Oh I was the true outpour
of my generation!
I adored the sensation
of having great text!
But the next in line
is bumping me out,
saying,
"Hey man, you're past your prime."
