Ghost:

Dingus, Internal Poetry, Problems, Uncategorized

Before we get to that point

Where I become fascinated at first glance,

Before the first (real damn heavy) word leaves my mouth,

A preface:

 

I’ve got a cousin that met Bill Murray once

And I’ve got a chip on my shoulder.

Trouble’s gonna come with a disappearing act.

I’ve already ran the numbers,

They make my head dizzy and still don’t give me the specifics

Of just what in the hell makes it so damn hard

to acknowledge

I exist.

We’re all busting our asses to the bone

to make something of ourselves

people will smile at.

We all have better things to do than deal with than the

worry poison

melting a hole in us from the inside out.

We’ve all done it before,

save the saints and the savants who’ve

been wise enough not to trifle.

You know the feeling of how stupid you get

when you realize somebody that you didn’t give the time of day to

was worth millions more than what you gave?

It still pumps through my veins with every beat.

Ba-bump, you damned moron.

Ba-bump, you weren’t worth their time.

 

The patient ones are always the best of us,

They receive disappointment like a skill to practice

And have become used to making a plan b.

Even though so many of them CLEARLY know what’s going on,

They give their space to the blockheads

Who don’t think hard enough to question their

damn flapping gums.

I feel like I’m stuck in cement between gaining patience

And being too oblivious to see fault.

Maybe there is no fault, just the way things are.

If it is, there’s tonight’s dose of disappointment to make me strong tomorrow.

to make me strong tomorrow.

 

Hallelujah.

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