the smell of the air just before the rain (conversations with the inner self)
the smell of the air just before the rain(the silence is so loud in my head)
[a sacrilege conversation -
her: do you believe in god?
him: i guess so
her: i thought you were an atheist?
him: yeah, but i slept with her last night
her: who?
him: god
her: i'll pray for you
him: that's not necessary, i fucked her last night and you're a bit old for imaginary friends, don't you think?
(a prolonged silence ensues,
in which no thought enters the mind of either party)]
i'm sitting on an old park bench
and there's a news paper blowing in the wind -
like from that old song by simon and garfunkel
except i don't have any old friend by my side,
except for josé,
and we sleep together every night,
the bottle rests under the dingy pillow
i found in the dumpster behind the soup kitchen
oh, god! the silence is so loud in my head right now!
sometimes, i hear the ticking of the clock
and images of my impending demise surface,
i wonder how long it will be
and will it end in suicide?
i can't take much more of this,
we're all just waiting really,
if you think about it
"i'm tired of thinking about it"
"me too, old friend, me too"
4/5/15
5/18/15
Poetry by Thomas Perdue
Read 658 times
Written on 2015-05-18 at 19:49
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