PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

how long does one stay at this motel

with motorists passing though it ever hour

with their whores and their cocaine

and when i came it was like a dream

if i leave here, i'll cry like my momma's dead baby

its a wish of calm, the reason people come here

mostly in a daze

then tehre are followers catchin' me like i'm an acrobat

laughing at my mouth that oozes a bloody, passionate pus

directed at the ignorance of the ants

run on adrenaline

because it's the only thing i feel

fathomless of pain and ecstasy

i am just an everlasting canary that refuses and laughs

in the face of taht which we call death

i am independent of my poisons