Poetry Wives

waiters and presidents bartenders and poetry-wives this pitiful boring life was self-appointed without the gavel's gravel of broken words the water's fire dozes off to become forgotten dust of aurora borealis' gaze the payment of perforated lies cuts deeper than the blade's edge of forty days and nights as my poems begin to really hurt i feel so bare so hard to cry having known that unknowing is like hating but loving my ex-wives (who i fought for love before) so waiters and presidents bartenders and poetry-wives this pitiful boring life was self-appointed without the gavel's gravel of broken words :: 01.10.2022 ::