you’re right, okay?
indeed there is
another way
a petty presumption
a yesterday
but what’s it to you,
anyway?
for the evening as
it swallows whole,
my dreaming meaning,
breathing so,
crawls across
these sleepy slopes
in mopey mosey
slouching copes
and while my weary
words for hands
grope about these silly
senseless lands
i find i’ll never
understand
(but that's just
what makes
everything
so grand)
Comments