Siphoning the Excess
Back in 1992
I was deliriously happy then
hooked on cigarettes
and canvases ripe
with the taint of paint
kisses of turpentine
friends were bailing
but the closest were devout
in touch with the now
never asking what,but how
draining bank accounts
for Friday nights
among the whores and trolls
outrageous,denizen brigades
trying to set the night on fire
hanging round the piers
waiting for the excitement
to finally happen here
holes in walls
cots and stalls
disinfectant and bleach
piercings and loose tongues
having an identity crisis
well not really,
just the vodka working its magic
and this revolve just shatters
life is queer enough
so why label anything
that ultimately stifles and fails?
All the goodness and sadness of life
and all that it entails?
Would like to talk to you
but time has marched on
you are now a house wife
and I'm at odds with this life
can't gather everyone
back into the fold
stuck in this dismal vein
how these words come to me
I wish I could explain
feeling so old,
yet cannot contain
writing out this strain
siphoning the excess again
something surreal and magical
never making any sense
yet someone somehow
must be fathoming all of this
while I'm stuck on some fence...
mathiasthom
written 11/21/10
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