KILL.ME.NOW

I write in a feverish fervour

Drowning my day in black coffee 

I walk down a street

Full of men brimming with similitude

I see your crumpled forehead

Your small mouth

Your tiny frame

Your lady like grace 

I am a constant cliché 

I can't stop seeing you

I write with the Kohl in my eyes

Sealing the letter with my spit

I sweat in anticipation and

I cry when I think of this

I know what a love letter will do

Practically nothing for you!

Until it talks about war and politics 

The demonic hegemony of unjust social constructs 

The complacency inducing virtual dissent

I could generate a little interest

 by quoting Elliot and his coffee spoons 

Or existential rants that disillusion and then lead to disbelief

From disbelief to spiritual enquiry and back to some belief

Even the upcoming third world war

Hell! I think you'll read it for much less 

Like how between Hillary and Trump 

America is a mess

And here I am writing about the darkness of the night 

That refuses to lift from my day

I am on the edge, giving too much away

I slowly tear the letter to bits

I now have a clear image

You wave your hand with your slender fingers 

And say this

"All these are love songs with no substance,

Gibberish not worthy of a poem you see,

Any way there is no older farce than poetry!"

Kill.Me.Now

Photograph By Jerry Uelsmann