PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The clocks as past midnight, time to be a drama queen.
I look into the wardrobe of my past to looks for some sugary memories,
They all smell of naftalines, pungent is the smell of my past!

I throw the garment to accompanied my spleen to oblivion on the slimy couch,
I know I shall upstage the best actor of the evening with more sorrow then one can spare to breathe!
The bathroom door is close,
I push open the scenery of my future; the place is empty too…
I knew better, but one has the need to dream, and shoot up hollow hopes inside my ageing veins!

Powders and lipsticks will never be enough to camouflage the disillusions,
So my weakness are my weapons…
To lured myself to deceptions,
And kills for u torso.
Great mythology makes great diva u say…

The melodies blurred their vitriolic voices inside the bare space of my house,
They is nothing I would trade for happiness,
Irony was my twin sister, u say…
The one I ate bitterly from u vagina…
Nothing was left but disappointments,
And the rest his legal history…

Fight over the papers,
The inks was never yours, exclusive poison,
I shall perish from it,
And leave a succession of evil,
Tainted words to savaged u minds! U say…

Write t ill the hope goes away, till u died u say,
Fantasies hold thigh against my drain arms…
For how long shall one find the warms to live,
Maybe the cold of some desolated lands is more appealing?
Forever running to the oblivion, I feel tonight as constantly, u say…
Maybe u are right, maybe u are wrong?
Does it really mater, co`s I breathe, and walk the earth like u at the end.
We shall meet and never really know, that we did…

HERVE NAUDET DIT MARGOT.