stranger
grunge poetry

stranger

i ‘ m claustrophobic
when the door closes , but
if it ‘s open truth
is exposed , then
i ‘ m defending those
questions mentioned , liKe
” on your skin , why ‘s a
gun sKetch / d in ? ”
unless you want a confession
that could fucK your head up ,
mess w / , don ‘ t Keep pressing
w / pure intentions , unless
you want to let a breath
from the devil in .
to be levelling , i ‘ d
never let you in .
you can Keep on KnocKing .
i pay no attention .
did i mention , drugs
help vent this ?
when my mind wrenches
drinKs ease the tension .
i bleed what i need ,
feed the obsession .
ignore the lessons , stay
locK / d in seclusion .
looK in the mirror n
shrug to who this is .

who am i ? sometimes i don ‘ t Know .
you n i ? same path , on different roads .
who am i ? sometimes i don ‘ t Know
which way to go .

that ‘ s how it goes .
you Know the plot .
it ‘ s a lot less fun
the day you get caught .
every day the clock stops
12 : 34 .
routine is a double –
edged sword .
when my cat snores , does
that count as conversation ?
it ‘ s a similar situation ;
i walK out on patience .
i ‘ m secretive liKe
the sKull n bones .
still in a contract for
a disconnect / d phone .

who am i ? sometimes i don ‘ t Know .
you n i ? same path , on different roads .
who am i ? sometimes i don ‘ t Know
which way to go .

 

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