rock bands rock out of my brain

I am nothing but air trapped in a vacuum
of my own making

within my brain chaos thump on the walls
creating the most beautiful ache

some rock bands may come out those
maybe I ought to market those

I lay down with the lies I tell myself
that love will help me die

I wrap everything in a scented tissue paper
and hit my head with my fists

if only it was possible to gather the crumbs
into my empty fold. if only

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I must mention here that not all that I write is autobiographical. So I wouldn’t like anyone to assume as much. As I said in my blog header, I don’t know from where words come, how they form and why I write. I have to. Isn’t imagination a wonderful thing? For a poet?

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