thoughts on fire
I’m not selling any secrets
banished from my world
a little while ago
carved out in chunks like fresh meat
get your body stacked with it
a slice of lemon peel
strawberry sorbet sip
I eat poetry like bread
insomnia
hour after hour after hour
like a wire for hire
rat on a treadmill
thoughts run through it
surging, spurring, swinging
in cabaret disguise
when I watch
every thing up close
before purchase
a pig in a poke
it’s not that I would like to buy
for next year
while I live and archive at the same time
perform activities and analyse them
every single expense
on my behalf
everything is always fine
as the customer is always right
scrap that
and start again
in another value and shape
next day
***
Thank you for reading!
If you liked this poem, you can add your Insights, Comment, leave a Heart, Tip, Pledge, or Subscribe. I will appreciate any support you have shown for my work.
You can find more poems, stories, and articles by Mescaline Brisset on my Vocal profile. The art of creation never ends.
About the Creator
Mescaline Brisset
if it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
so you want to be a writer? – Charles Bukowski
Find me on Medium
Keep reading
More stories from Mescaline Brisset and writers in Poets and other communities.
A Digital Pandemic.
After a long day in the department, Emily dropped her worn and tired dark leather bag on the counter before navigating through the small and disordered kitchen to grab a cold beer from a contrarily empty fridge. She hadn't had a chance to unpack since moving from Newcastle to Glasgow, let alone shop for sustenance, except for cold brews naturally.
By Billie Whyte6 days ago in Chapters
Comments (1)
Mescaline Brisset is not accepting comments at the moment
Want to show your support? Send them a one-off tip.