I Throw

quest your tree erroneously
in this life there’s nothing to it
you’ll cry less when you die
spat of spite all the accounts
have been logged
footprints and dust on
the shoulder cliffs
lost cries at the door without meaning
flip the record over now damnit
my grandfather’s newspaper
at the breakfast table
I blow snot into nakins from my nose
I throw rocks through glass buildings
from my right hand

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s