by ataylor1in6

he used to say poet-ree

then he lost interest in me

like the braces that hold up drain pipes

he rusted away

flakes of brown

tangible change from the paint finish

that leaves nothing

if i defined more spoke more like i used to

when did i lose the touch to read

oscilating like a syntehsier

between 0 and 1

and 0 and 1

when he said poet-ree

did i lose interest in me

the tour guide leaves you in the gift shop

and everything around is tat and shit and maybe you should get a job here after all

you cant afford the price

time to grow old

where the sleeves of your shirt are rolled

you could be leading a hand next

looking up

i havent finished looking at yours

no direction in the directionless

and finding no pleasure in it

is creeping up the doubt

love me/kill me

hour ‘n’ a half on the train

text messages typed by deaf thumbs to numb ears

nothing but a flat-cap and emails left behind

i let me down when i let you down

letting me down

i worked best like a book

turning the sages with the years

follow like a chamberpot

you took the predictive text from unger me

the high stain

low brand

vert i go forest

to roll the bark between my thumb and finger

leaving the rind

infantile ragei have as many fathers as i have words

to write