It’s a thrill
to be afraid
--
to discover
you’ve
mislaid
your last
capacity
for sense,
and care --
to fall into
the dense
exasperation
of despair –
knowing there’ll
be
nothing at
the end --
that there’d
been
nothing to
begin with --
that sin lives
at the core –
and there isn’t
any more –
besides a
fairy tale
whose moral is:
you’re dead
before you
die –
it’s a thrill
to tell that lie..
2 comments:
Guy tells a poem for the commen folk. I love it. it is beautiful. it speaks to me...
your poetry is so good it is frightening
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