Poemetrics from the Year’s Past Which Never Made it to Publishment

Woke up and I was 26
We sparkle our eyes
In the Saturday night
We pick out the shoes best to pick us a fight
We dance around flames
Smoke jukebox serenades
And the pagan in me is the latent stage

i’m lonesome, exhausted
at living a hospice
and drowning in
becoming accosted

Just learn to sit in bars and play guitars and smoke cigars and never talk to
Anyone with anything what is to be continued…
We ramble on over anyone with half a song to play our sing along but never on with
Anyone for what to be continued…

The now wheres and what hows?
We take all of our last bows
And then take one more, on and on encore

Mistaken what was been saying
And people relations
Cats purr and stir, and come back for more
But we’re all inclined to think after we decide

My ass is full of yesterday
And all the things I swallowed, today I’ll piss away
Bruises have novels to say
But I can’t remember anything past 8

When night pulls its deep will you make nightmares where I previously only had dreams?
Are you staying for now and when you’re not around will I feel a sinking or simply float out loud?
Is there something inside of my twitch that goes brain to help me recall the idea of living this way?
I feel rich, in my pockets, slow in my soul and the out comes on in and replaces good old old.

Depression in bouts, which one ends with a knockout and we all get hurt on the way.
I just need a few times, Ikea my mind and help me sort out the sheets from the shit that they wipe.

i’ve got to try and make it
i’ll make it if i can
but i’ve got to be there when i am

the perfect lunch and walking all the day
raspberry beer and in a haze
where are you at? with lemonade?
i haven’t charged my phone in days

cause I’d like to do it in the islands
i’d like to make it all for free
simple is enough to go around
and i’ve gotten it all over me

Trying to forget
The 25 before
I hoped that I’d see you around
But here I am just staring at the water evaporating up off the ground
Winter made a late stop by
A blur of ground and sky
And soon the world, wearing its best white
Starting getting gray around the edges and the salty scratching that applies
While I was terrified in my shoes
The holes and the confused
Feeling of finally making a bad decision after all of my previous and equally bad tries

I moved into the space where the asteroid
Would have been were it bound for earth
But if astronomy has taught me one thing or another
It’ll be a good year, at least for the roses

I picked my teeth, a little bit of last night
Left to let me know that I was feeling unright
Left, they say, to my own devices
It’s likely I’d’ve invented something great or at least slightly

Of the course we see a man and his donkey
“We’re a-racing, see?” and I just keep plodding on
Supposed to be an X here, drawn large and on the ground
Treasure map mistake? Or is it this X here that I’ve found?

Up Next: Suburbs More Dangerous than Cities