the girls, they dropped like sex bombs
down into the bar
just as I was headed
out to the waiting car.
another day wasted,
another night spent,
I yelled at the driver
and so off he went.
it’s enough in my knowing
each day has its end,
as I’m left doubled over
as if I had the bends.
for life, it moves quickly
yet slow to reveal,
and so why we’re so late
to know what we feel —
is it guilt, is it fear?
anger, rage, sadness?
somehow our pride
breeds its own madness:
an attitude of platitudes,
born of pain and of scars.
pinned in the corner,
we never get far.
An attitude of platitudes, I love that
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The sex bomb bit was the first thing I thought of, on my way to work, and that was the second, on the way home. But I completely forgot it while I was writing it. I’m glad I finally remembered lol
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