Fall Spurts

Balls roll crunched up

Into themselves


Like they are having fun


Being kicked and rolled around

Isn’t fun.




I wish I could stop my brain

Whenever I wished

Just flick a switch

And click off my thoughts.

… that be nice.



Sometimes really hate myself

My over thinking and constant

Picking at scars causing deeper wounds

…Food for thought, indeed

I’m dying from a burst gut.


Remember when I used to write

With metaphors

And taught life lessons

To friends?

That was something

Then and now all thats left is

The purge of thoughts

That bash on white pages

Like huge waves

In the ocean.


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