everywhichwaybutlove
with no spaces to separate
the feeling, so you continue
and you sway, and you go and
go
and
go
and
go
never knowing the light of this
perfect day
when the sun has come out to greet
you
and the clouds have parted their ways
when the greenest grass blossoms
you linger in your prison, linger – rotting
away.
Why does this torment you?
Are you not in
control?
For what’s the purpose of living
if you’re not directing which way you roll
like an imperfect circle,
wanting to shatter and
be no more,
you’re being pathetic
pety…
prude- yet most of all just
dumb
for when have you given an ounce
of yourself…an ounce, just a small
little
crumb…
too bad for your suitors
or perhaps too bad for that last one –
I thought he would have been good
you’ll have to catch up with a
r
u
n
when will you start living…
allowing a moment to take
to the sky and bellow its song
for every moment that has
attempted –
you’ve only seen the wrong.
Shame little dove, shame –
I loved you best,
I hope you know,
actually, you do;
I told you so.

by: Patrick Bairamian

From: rogue