17 Jul




I saw son under the streetlight
then lights, then chalk…


just because I lost you
doesn’t mean that I want you back
no need to feed the process of the abattoir
I’ll be minced as it is
whether by weary machinery or by its tizzied proxy


as long as you love me more
when I’m gone
then this tired, timid, underwhelming living works
bourbon and ambition will get me by
even though you’ll be the last woman that I got to kiss
unlike every next one
which will be just tongues and lips gyrating til’ the little death
(or until another easy Barthes reference)
vibration, hearts beating just because
unsputtered by anything resembling destiny
perceived or bona fide
more akin to a deal with the DA where we all get fucked


never liked these small rooms
the hands hurt
from tapping at the table
keeping the beat inside my head to pass the time
the trumpet part from SpottieOttieDopaliscious
but as long as you love me more
I’ll wait it out here for now somehow
there’s enough music in my head to drown them out
as long as I don’t find you when I egress out the postern
not this one that you’ve pretended, at the very least
I want a new one, the one that got shined off
but that’s just futile speculation
too much imagination, too many hypotheticals to keep straight
might as well wait for son to reappear
lift off the chalk
to walk away


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Jack Tsoy Tumult

Morose Pontifications and Other Poetic Ramblings

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