The only resort I have is silence
I'm a bad son
I have no friends
Not one
The malevolence I harbor
Expresses itself in exquisite spurts
Of despicable violence
And fits of insidious pique
Rend my twain apart
Like a peach stone
In a dapple
Like a robot – hanging paint
You’re a bad son and a grandchild
Loved by no one but the dead
Your mother would burn you
With cigarettes
If she knew you
From the cat
I just want revenge on my enemies
The teacher, the copper, the system,
I want them to acknowledge my genius
Instead of being counted a victim
Can you imagine being stranded on a comet
Solitosis setting in
Like a creeping emptiness
Like a dirty spot
O the hurt of loneliness
Even the stars are invisible
And sublimely unentrancing
O the
division within us
Cavorting like fox cubs in moonlight
Stop the rocket
Watch them dancing
The only resort I have is silence
I'm a bad son
I have no friends
No, no
Not one
The
malevolence I harbor
Expresses
itself in exquisite spurts
Of
despicable violence
And fits of
insidious pique
Rend my
twain apart
Like a
peach stone
In a dapple
Like a robot – hanging paint.
28/09/17
photo art: irina savina/anatole green
yes
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