A
drunk man
called me:
to complain and
whine-- a waste of time
(toss my hair, roll my eyes)
I can't face people, when they
ask, "have you had enough yet? No?"
Even though I'm done, can't whisper, "When!"
mocking me, for all I can't stand
Outside, the wind is teasing trees
"these are..." (defeat) I'm a wreck--
these are motions- repeat
bricked you in (out?). Breathe--
Blank walled, I
sit right, here:]
doesn't
[It
Author notes
I decided to write one poem, and then write another in between. I think I don't like this idea.
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