personal

me reflecting on unavailable women, whether it be emotionally or by status

they’re
psychoanalyzing my pride. I’m ignoring the obvious
a war vet with ear plugs on the fourth of july
you’re that pyrotechnic glow on my mind
this memoir a token of antisocial expression
our vermillion bond, was anecdotal at best
demoralizing. you’ll only ever see it as a victimless crime
siphoning bits and pieces of our symphony’s chime
sitting in my oval office with petitions to sign
writhing in, inconsistency, not filling in shoes fit to size
concealing true entities. revealing my shrine
the answers rhetorical, when i ask who am i?
enough of the superstition. my existential crisis
to feel like i kiss your iris, everytime i think your eyelids

Comments, suggestions, or anything that comes to your mind when you read this