Posts Tagged Razor

Young Ones on Side of Cliff

Tricky patterns in my mind
tip me over into empty Corvairs
going off cliffs with sharp razor
blades flying in my face, spraying
my skull into a full eagle nest
where the young ones are
stuttering out the fact that
I can’t do what I want to do
(to be an artist despite having
no talent for that stupid mission),
and all I can do is avoid the
alcohol that was my false
medicine and hope that some
powerful being will show me
sometime that some thing
I might do might do some
thing to make me feel okay.


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