#383

Sweet Dreams

Genius, mostly hidden, sure and yet not

Take a drink or three, maybe a generous shot

Writing writs with style drunkish

Sober mostly has to go

Hemingway lingers in thought and action

Feelings become a lost reaction

Left to linger on dance floor ripped

Like rhythm dropped any way it’s spit

Flippin and slippin lost whole and alone

Fuck you and fuck them too

Lost in a suburban construct, doing what they do

Commercially loved and taught to seek

What’s assumed strong but in truth weak

Conform to what women want, you must

Bullshit I say, your hand is bust

Rainbow flop at the flush glory sought

Suck it up sweetheart,

Your bed is made.

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