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sweet nothings

chaos awaits me
clashing worlds
of empty fate

love and rage
trade their hands
and deal me mine
my curiosity drowns
my subconscious
of my unfamiliarity with the game
and i play poker
without knowing what i am

my thoughts crash
and the words are jumbling
hastily i lay down my hand
and my body
becomes a cloud
whilst my mind is crashing down
rage is enthused
as he scoops my chips to his side of the table

i am a poor loser

and how can i prick
with such venomous vile words
that i know will hurt you
and i do so

mistakenly, i drew my gun
with intent to shoot


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One Comment

  1. a good account of emotional confusion…we poets tend to endure the pain of seeing ourselves

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