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…..


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s