Wednesday, August 4, 2010

on and off

If practice makes perfect then I am the perfect failure
Trying accumulates to pain and frustration

Good intentions are cursed
The rewarding feeling of aiding another is a set up

The trance elects the metronome
The moment spills into a plastic cup
And paints your night with a star in the sky
Reveals that you've never been alive

You're a letter slid under the door into a late night violet shaded room

It's tomorrow night
On the walk home in the rain
Couple more blocks
The late city night
From what the morning spit out
The elegant lampshade guiding you home
The yellow tinge bouncing on that faulty concrete
How did this night end?
Have you met your teenage quota
This night is a hidden tragedy

Is this betrayal or revenge?


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