Cracked Headstones & Unfinished Thoughts

six writers in a cemetary each scribbling at the ears of the others focusing through drunken desire what could be better? these casscadeing lines, broken sonnets shouted into fields of dead cracked headstones & unfinished thoughts Where have i been? so many years squandered i've sat here before, in this very spot & felt that somehow, it must be my own i've read these lines before, never quiet giving them life now with the sound of name-dropping poets, listing every friend, financer, first love, & false start, i realize someday we will be the name-droppers, recalling the first times we spoke, read, felt these words or that line never quite finished with the list of beginings first times