Wild blueberries taste
beyond the pale
of domestic cultivars,
sweetness cut by granite acidity
underlain by the spice
of marginal existence.
A blueberry’s destiny
is realized through consumption.
I satisfy as many as I can
to deposit their future
a couple portages down
tomorrow.
An older poem recycled as it fit's Roy's contest to a "P"
Emotions that are never shown
These underlain feelings of being so alone
Emotions that come and go
That ominous, ominous road
The spark of these feelings
The fuel of this depression
You say that you love me
BUT I KNOW ITS A F...ING LIE
Everyone's eyes are on me
All saying whose that guy
the picture comes into focus
none of them would care if i DIE
I Think back as far as I can remember
Since the beginning you've always been this way
using me to get what you want
convincing me that its my price to pay
My fault to take
My chance that passed
Always setting me up to finish last
You set me aside to tend to another
That is you, My very own f...ing mother