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Routine...
by J. P. DaviesWhen routine
has become your relationship,
and you're both in a panic,
because you can't vocalize it to each other.
So you just keep fucking,
trying to find the love there,
but you feel so alone.
It's the world turned violently
in on itself, when it keeps spinning
but all the colours seem just a shade off.
And you keep running at full speed
trying to keep up,
but you realize you left your shoes behind.
And your feet are bleeding
as you run, on the broken glass
that is every feeble attempt
you've made to regain control. 03/20/2004 Author's Note: On Gregg Rowe's suggestion, I took the author's note from my poem "If You {Could Only} See" and turned it into a poem.
Posted on 03/20/2004
Copyright © 2025 J. P. Davies
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Trisha De Gracia on 03/20/04 at 10:33 PM I agree, this is quite a bit more fantastic on white space. I think you deserve more than one wink for that ;-) |
| Posted by Ashok Sharda on 03/23/04 at 02:53 AM Well, when our approach to any thing turns passive our behavior becomes mechanical. We stop ACTING. We just keep on reacting, mechanically. Nothing is transmitted. Nothing is recieved. Vibrations ceases to be. |
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