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Cumbersome To This World

Illusion

a plate of fries
shoes, socks, magnets, bugs & number two pencil
we gravitate through a smile
a push to take us closer
when we get in then we will see

a slut as a street walker
the peril of the night
they hide behind the garb of lust
climax

exposed to the elements
a straw to suck it all in
the film on the dross take a napkin
shadows beckoning call
illusion

I have become cumbersome to this world
to my girl
a clock suddenly turns
the outpouring of desolate cries
shades of black torn

fragments are kept in my diary

About This Poem

Review Request Intensity: Please use care (this is a sensitive subject for me, do not critique harshly)

Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft

About the Author

Region, Country: Wolcott, Ct. USA

Favorite Poets: John Ashbery & Major Jackson

More from this author

Comments

Geezer

Geezer

8 years 4 months ago

The images...

you convey, just everyday items but nonetheless, significant. The significance being in the fact that they are so ordinary. Just didn't get the phrase; [a clock suddenly turns] I'm sure that it has some relevance, [maybe the movement of the hands?]. ~ Geezer.
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