my first sonnet, disfigured.

29 November 2010 § Leave a comment

i’ll stop writing this when i can no longer see.
but all the times I’ve penned the dark of night
and the morning after, found my blinded scribbling,
I’ve learned my favorite sense is not of sight
but that of feeling. And to disappoint
the deities of earth’s infernal imagery,
audio is that love of mine once coined
to be her rival. every note a memory,
every step a song – sound needs her servant
like the devil wants to write his psalms
with gold and LSD, til our friends the vermin
no longer run along with their shock and awe.

now the sun is down and out from that tempest sky,
so let’s drink and fuck and tell each other lies.

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