uncomfortable dirty buds buzzing bummer songs into my brain
they hurt my ears, i’d rather walk in silence than with this pain
i search and i scour
for places with sufficient solitude
quietly, with light steps
i try not to intrude
for i'm never first
to a valley of soft grass and tender earth
there’s men and women sleeping there
whole families in a city
made of tents and trash, done up pretty
anything with utility
my whole life is a handful of sketches
their whole existence is a trash bag of dishes
and i don’t know how people can compartmentalize
i wouldn’t last a day with my overstimulated eyes
i’m all plugged in
and tapped out
i’m apathetic and down
i just can’t be alone with all these strangers around
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Comments1
'quietly, with light steps
i try not to intrude
for i'm never first
to a valley of soft grass and tender earth'
'my whole life is a handful of sketches
their whole existence is a trash bag of dishes
and i don’t know how people can compartmentalize
i wouldn’t last a day with my overstimulated eyes'
(did so well, to poetically enrich
your work
by painstakingly, refining your complex thoughts)
thanks for sharing, dear Poet
a great read!
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