I thought id write a poem about how gay poems are.
Then I thought,
Poems aren't that gay.
It twas a beautiful day ay?
The heart gives off a feeling of whats good and bad.
Sometimes a voice inside burns with doubt and fear.
Where this voice comes from?
I don't know.
Maybe Mr. Rogers Neighborhood..
Last time I talked to that voice I shoved my hand down my throat and ripped out this bloody mother fucker and cut him up till he shut the fuck up!
Now if I feel like writing a poem that makes no sense, I could do that because I don't give a fuck anymore about these man made rules.
I pissed on a wall the other night and called it a master piece.
I got a picture of it on my phone if you'd like to see?
I try hard to not second my self.
I think it was a work of art.
In the mean time, If its done by you then its a got dam master piece.
|Nick riding the coaster.|