Poetry · Writing

Sitting on Bolts

the transferred and borrowed minds-

heads in the clouds

channeling our current

and it’s fluent

sittin’ on the side bein’ truant.

The almighty-

 

channeled the weather in bare palms- wrath

sinking ships- casualties in the thousands

the ten warnings written on a bathroom stall

 

shit was laughable. Borrowed mind from the bottom of a pint,

screaming torture and

something I couldn’t pronounce,

maybe not of this language or of a fathomed world

maybe not one we’re not taught

or he is just a drunk with droll hangin’ from his lip.

 

 

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