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dear landlord
by Artur Desruisseauxsunday afternoon
I sit in my living room
wounded like a dear full of lead
my bullet holes drip hot stinky blood
bright light pours through the blinds
like gunshots and a fist to my balls.
all I wanted,
was to be kissed by the sunday afternoon glow
but instead
I am full of lead, with a cheap shot to my sack
yeah it all comes down to my cock
and my balls and the sun and my neighbors who I think,
would like to see me dead
I have visions of this
nobody saw him for a week...
my body stiff like cement
bob dylan still playing on my stereo
smoke another cigarette
drink another drink
franky lee
you aint got nothing on me
murdered?
nobody saw him for a week
his body stiff like cement
I think he was born on a sunday 10/25/2013 Posted on 10/25/2013
Copyright © 2024 Artur Desruisseaux
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 10/27/13 at 04:38 PM but at least he got to live a little before the unfortunate incident which is more life than is given mayflies who are born only to be extinguished in the same day and to boot, they didn't even get a chance to have their ovules busted or the privilege of listening to Dylan. alas, no Dylan's exist amongst mayflies or ovule breakers. you have a great narrative style, to say the least. |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 10/30/13 at 04:23 PM A killer - totally riveting read. Thanks for this. |
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