Literal as I go


Lukewarm

As birds sit 

Perched on electric lines

I laugh

at my mistakes

As if I'm one 

With them

Stumbling

Drunk

I dream lifting my hands 

Up

Running in circles

(loneliness is a crime)

As cars pass by me

Pass by the soju bottle

The white lines 

Are no longer straight

And the skin

Is lukewarm

Do I have to hold my arms close 

I start mumbling to myself

Talk of the wind 

The clips of hair

Between the branches

(Art is a crime)


Fictional 

The bus is no longer

Waving at me 

Bye

Goodbye!

I confess

I confess alot

because

there is great loneliness

That follows

All round

I've missed it

Painting good lies

Yellow lights

Parks 

that meant more 

In the dream

Dreamt

next to me

Everything can be bought

Everyone noticed

Everything easy is bought 

everything bought

Is easy

easy so am

I.


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