b thang.

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anyway so here is a poem i wrote a long long time ago which i never liked. but i just found it and i think i like it. i never write poems anymore.
Tonight
Is the first night
In so long
That I have turned the light off and not thought
Of any of you.
I would lie
Arms crossed around myself
Arms crossed and kept me safe.
Imagining the sound of the
Door-swings-open
Or the TV-left-on
And fall asleep smiling.
But instead I lie
Eyes open
Forcing objects to make themselves known
Remembering books I never finished
Feeling regret
At a stack of yellow paper.
Tonight
The false glow of the lights outside
Make it all so real
And I cant contain how much I hate it.
I would lie
Being awoken by the abruptness of my sleep.
I would think
Of my eyes as shells,
Filled with fluid,
Lined with lines,
And let them get dry.
Tonight is now older,
So much so it becomes the day.
The sounds I hear now are:
The door slams shut
The TVs broken
And the beep of you on a tape.
I dont listen.
And I am finding it so hard to sleep.
I listen to the footsteps made by a clock
Walking through my wall
And the stone of my house.
Like the street outside, the open hallway
Like the cold wooden stage
And like your watch -
I give up trying.
i am getting ready to write something so big. so big i just, i just cant even think of the shape or the size or the colour of it in my head i just know it's filled with lines upon lines upon thousands of lines of pure utter and unadulterated genius that it'll be like a cold cold cold blue wind blowing men in ties and creased trousers and business suits until their grey-an-black hair is gone and all that's left is my green sofa and the comfortable recognition of being fucking beautiful.
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