Emo Poetry Redux
My heart aches, circled with barbed wire.
A black river of tears streaming down my face.
Each breathe, like inhaling glass.
Why don't you love me?
My soul teeters on the dismal abyss.
My flesh grows cold because you're not here.
My blood turns to ash and I die.
Buzzwords: Garbageman, Mime, Doctor, Chef, France, Spain, Ibiza
Redux:
July 14, 1972
Propped against Bordeaux, trashcans
swallow vintaged industry left to molder
against gnarled rinds of aigues and graves.
My ears blister, left feverpink.
A tragic frown drips
over my apron's crisp white.
My hushed but snarling "Mon Dieu!"
echoes across cobbled history.
The lamb grows chill,
quivering in its greasy fête.
Wallets, slurring and happy
in their bistro chairs
turn listless in
the scented 8 o'clock heat.
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