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YOU PICK

by Craig Johnson 8 months ago in surreal poetry · updated 4 months ago

Ill Be What You Need Me To Be

MY MORNING STARTED AT MIDNIGHT SO WHY MUST I (NOW) PICK ONE?

HOW CAN ONE COLOR/WORD SAY IT ALL?

IVE NEVER BEEN GOOD AT CHOOSING (OR SAYING/MEANING GOODBYE)

BUT A BILLON CHINESE COULDNT GIVE A FUCK, COULDNT CARE LESS, AND FOR THAT IM JEALOUS.

AND EVEN NOW, AS WE THROW BIRTHDAY PARTIES FOR GHOSTS, DREAM OF SUMMERS IN TONKEN, AND ETERNITY IN A BASEMENT IN THE HEAVENS.

WE DRAW A BLANK ON WHAT MAKES US SHINE LIKE A CANDLE IN A DESERT.

IM NOT A RAINBOW

IM NOT MY BLOOD

IM NOT THE PEDALS ON A LILLY

IM A BLINDING, DEAFING DULL LIGHT SEEN THRU THE BLIND EYE

BEAUTIFUL TO ALL WHO SEES AND CANT LOOK AWAY

AND EVEN WHEN YOUR EYES ADJUST YOU YOU SEE NOTHING AS ALL THERE IS.

I COULD NOT CALL MYSELF

MY HONESTY IS IN MY NOT KNOWING, NOT EVER KNOWING WHAT THIS IS, AND NEVER CLAIMING TO...

YOU PICK A COLOUR AND ILL BECOME IT

surreal poetry

Craig Johnson

yes...it’s true, I am a liar.

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