Cliche Beach
Cliche beach
Standing upon cliche beach
With waves of banality
Beating at my feet
I scribble
Crimson skies
Rising over sparkling seas
I rip I tear
Fumbling grumbling
I kick into touch
English is great language
For selling chickenshit to strangers
But not for elusive phantoms
Who lurk beneath
The fallacy of daily ritual
I have no crown of thorns
No existential pain
Only words crawling in my brain
Who fail to congeal to any useful being
Copyright © Paul Martin | Year Posted 2015
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