Some Unfiltered Thoughts.


Unfiltered Thoughts.


One too many

flicks of a bic,

whether between  

closing or opening a pen

only to seek a light

and I might

become a Cancer,
instead of a Libra.

The scales

by the weight
of a ponderous

abnormal mass,
constricting my lungs,
perhaps stealing

a poet's voice.


From poetic diction,

to addiction

to perhaps a final


where life

becomes fiction

from tiny rolled

up bits of paper

death's prediction.

And what is a poet

without a voice?

A mime translating

thoughts on paper,
till the death

certificate is signed....

and no one reads

such self pitying trash

such as that.




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