Lonely Arts Club

Yeah, welcome
to the lonely
arts,

of big box craft
sections and
empty calls
to action.

Say, if you’re not gaining
traction by
twenty seven,
you won’t die
a hero
but have lived
long enough to earn
a little
malevolence.

Childhood haunts
so gaunt either get
put up for rent or
reopen-
renovated
reminders you
can’t retire writing
stanzas in a
diner.

Welcome to
the dialect of a habitual
liar, the first page of
my story says,
back when I
abetted lead as
my lead
lady,

swearing I might
maybe
be her
gentleman.

But I salted wounds like my
parents taught me
to do,
literary life under
precision knives; a

lifestyle
my paramour
rebuked.

The view to
that kill instilled
a distance that built
itself up
until I
was

its
crowning
achievement.

And
my friend,
that is where
our paths
diverge.

You have your emptiness whereas I
have a thirst; your wounds
sustain you while none of
mine can
be nursed.

Your berth is
my chasm, but if
we saw
a passerby and asked
him,

it would
only be
a hole.

I play God
with
my strongest and
you’re trying to thin
the herd lest

its more
apparent
aberrations
become
adored.

Welcome to our
lonely little
club
where love
is an
abstract and
feeling truly alive
means not
giving
a
fuck
any
more.

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “Lonely Arts Club

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s