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Music Shrouding Misery
This sip tastes so familiar
like sweet canteloupes
mixed with
red dye No. 4.
My body's filter rejects it
at first,
but as with anything
repitition wears it down.
My problem is not with him though
It is me
My unquenchable thirst
for disastrous repetitiveness.
The tremors, the cold appendages
the numb taste buds
the hard to swallow fruit
that has been rotting in the
window sill
of my own tragedy
and i think to myself,
"If i close my eyes and envision ripened fruit it will taste better"
Half-Truths hurt the confused and i swallow Bitter Sweet Symphonies.
Copyright ©
Peter Calvanese Jr.
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