i Wish i Could Be On Time!

08 February 2004

no words
i hunger for words to flow onto the pale manuscript yearning for some sort of affection from its lover like seamen trickling down the esophagus after good oral sex with love and hate all at once
neglect of talent in many ways tears scatter on the pages puddles of black and blue ink nothing but an image of modern art
anger but no words as i sit with a pillow upon my knees listening to sixties folk music praying for an inspiration hoping for words of beauty and my pen and my mind to make love and create a child called poetry
i return devastated to verses with no rhythm and phrases that are not worthwhile to my audience
i have become a stranger to poetry and abnormally brilliant at contemplating absolutely nothing
no words
london kennedy

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