Your words race through my mind like
electrified distractions,
gathering between old crosswords
and who-knows-what. Tried for halted
purpose, I'll speak a subtle sonnet in your direction,
knowing it's just a jinx among
redundant words and fallen statutes.
My thoughts are tail-gated by nicotine and booze,
reaching backwards for the nearest trashcan.
And I love it.
Any good?
Comments
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Great write... strong imagery and to me , this seems to be a metaphor for cheap pick up lines... though I am probably wide of the mark...
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Thank you
And actually, there was a prompt to write about your internet-crush. This guy's username is "zero the last decepticon" (on a different site) and I like picking on him, so I chose him. He's thirty, so he knew I wasn't actually crushing on him. (Especially since I assume internet-crushes to end badly.)
So, it's actually about a booze-drinker/poet named "zero." =D xD
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