The Mezunian

Die Positivität ist das Opium des Volkes, aber der Spott ist das Opium der Verrückten

QUIT PUTTING FISTS IN MY BUM IT HURTS LIKE RASHES

For hours I’d gaze up @ those spritely flames

Bourn by the coupling ‘tween sunset & clouds,

& meshed e’en mo’ unscorched in icy rain,

With thunder white & hot—& just as loud.

I spread my arms & wait for rain to flood

Around my body, soul, & coupon stashes—

Veins running @ the touch of such cold blood

Till filling my soft stomach with warm splashes.

I’ll always miss the weather you display,

Every morning, night, & all the days.

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Posted in Metered, Poetry, Shakespearean Sonnet & Parodies