Dying : a poem

Posted: November 9, 2018 in Uncategorized

Becoming yourself, although, through the course of things, you end up dying.

It was July, I’d end up flying.

Mack was there, he was drinking, crying, lost love or a bottle of gin.

Sitting at a bar, you discover humanity, that mankind is there, the entire gauntlet, the good, the bad, the entire place is on fire.

What shall be, shall be.

It is.

Love, sex, fucking on 5th Street, our eyes ablaze.

Good night young prince…..

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