PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Today, the madness shifts down
down, like the leaves gently coursing themselves onto the
forrest bed
Green, emerald hands lost to gravity.
I sit still now. And I remember better.

We outwitted the rain, you and I, stalking the grey
streets of new york
The empire of our bodies catching tongue
We landed a coupld of phone numbers, we never called
It was just so. Just that.
I left you on the blue seat of the train and got
off somewhere in West Orange, having
only two bucks, a dead cell phone, and this flammable
rage in the balloon of my stomach
I sat on the wet bench, watched the last of the trains choo by,
homesick

I had nothing,
and somehow I got home with that.

Today, the madness wafts up
I'm sitting outside a clilnic in Chester
My woman and I had a silent fight and she knew I
was leaving
So she sliced her forefinger open while I was in
the shower washing the rest of us off
She needed stiches, you can always tell, by
the amount of blood
So here we are,
not knowing anything anymore
I left her in there, I despise waiting rooms
I've been in too many already,

waiting.

for the awful news that always comes