Scratched Poetry From Class

I do these writing exercise where I just write down the words I hear and see around me in class. This was a strange evening, I suppose. Enjoy. 


It is a metaphor for death
dilly dallying the doom
of being chosen, that slow
chafe at your heels
lingers in your eyes
wears at your pockets into
two ample hand warmers.

With innocent surprise, you
smirkingly light another
at the downcast pedestrian
too eager to judge
uneager to question
suited up for the coffin already.

The final sound collapsed
in on itself–a pirouette
of a masterpiece–
cast down by a stray city cop,
who whispers “I’m sorry.”

Your grail of laughter in an
empty ashcan resounds against
your cynical nature. As
you sidestep the inevitable,
his spirit fizzles
into an extinguished unknown.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s