The coyote looked around at the stupidity
and cried to the moon
because of your self-obsession
because of your cheeky fascist attitude
because of your flaunted and mistakable beauty
because of your glory story and battling the abusing tyranny in your head
and the flowery duel to the death with your decaying soul
because of the love you throw away in your limitations you exert on me and yerself
because of the death of your grandpa you still haven't gotten over
because of the smiling face behind your own cloudy mug I wish would explode with the
rapture though don't take offense, I'm probably going to hell too
because of the poems I love reading that reassure me in my howling
because of your unwillingness to look in the mirror
because a coyote's cry is something to be scared of
when he laughs in your direction and makes vivid, gut wrenching eye contact
with your morality and I realise
I'm not alone in summertime.
No comments:
Post a Comment