Friday, August 9, 2013

I Don't Want To See You Posing For Photographs

Low back pain and reading poets
Does nothing to lift me, only makes me think of
My small words, small lives of mostly pain
Choking back the knowledge, and its
Resulting panic, that we are plainly lost.

What did you do for the money that allowed you
To Winter here and Summer there?
What did you sell? Who did you kill?
Or was it just talent deservedly recognized
And proper branding?

Pimping and whoring, the old man is snoring.
And I'm talking a lot of shit for a jealous
Half-assed-one-sixteenth-time writer with a backache.


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