Sunday, January 27, 2013

Coda


Fuck all of you.
Remember me poorly if you must.
Nothing was very good but
there will not be anything from me again.
If this seems tragic, upon request I will refer you
to someone else who did it better.
This is tiring. In the whole world there are not enough drugs.
Hope is the construction crew on a highway when you don't own a car.
The other gods are dead and my vain wings are failing with the morning.
If you find a feather in the ocean's foam, remember my fall.

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