Sunday, April 26, 2009

A Poem About The Early Morning/I Think Too Much



Bea Arthur is dead......

He fondles his beer and gropes her breast

With of course an unhealthy dose of ego un-laid to rest since christian school

He tells her she's his star while his brother buys them shots at the bar

Logic fell on me last night, like a cartoon piano

Only not enough to kill me but just enough to wake me at 8 am puzzled fuck dumb muzzled 

Corrected I stand erected, are all of my meanderings misdirected ?

Shit is shit, perhaps neither of them remember(know) this

I want to move 

I have to move

Cooped up in the same headplace for too long maybe 

Don't sleep in my bed

Don't call me baby

Your yes' could've only meant maybe

Now you lay on the cot 

While I am forced to dream in arbour's of your own beauty

Fill me up with water, do what your brain can do to dilute me

I'll spill out and you'll still be the same

Yes I find it hard to explain

Why don't you get right on that while I shake and refrain

Is this okay?

I hope everything goes great really

I'll leave eventually 

I could never wish anyone anything horrible 

A friend a friend that is the end a friend of mine

Sorry I took the time.

-Casey






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