The Olympian dives his last swim,
the red and blue underdogs
might net Messi and
I measure time by empty beercans
littered around the sagging bed we made.
Doctor I prescribed a twelver
and sad songs sung by sad people,
so I know other artists died and
were born again to create.
I stalk her second string:
He's in the ivy league I coveted
and he seems nice in a boring way.
On my carousal I dream I made
the Prufrock erected by her wake.
Last edited by aland88; 06-18-2016 at 07:47 PM..