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POEM: My Asylum

This place is my asylum
where romance is dead
I can’t hear a thing but
voices in my head,
last rites

and fist fights

I sang my song/
but they hung me from the heavens
to die by the drop
and said I was not one of them

you hit me in the soft cell/
wedding bells,
future head
the beat of your drum goes on/
like the atom bomb
on Hiroshima.
stop what you’re doing to me

this place is an asylum
I don’t belong here
I don’t belong anywhere else
the fact is:
maybe I enjoy being in hell

9 in the morning/cigarette calling
she warned me this would happen
in the asylum
I liked her,
too much to listen

I may be naïve but believe me –
it’s something I’m working on.
go on, forget me
regret the seconds you wasted
wishing you were deaf
and dumb.

call me a liar, but don’t ever tell me
that you’re not far
from my asylum


photo credit: Funky64 ( via photopin cc

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