Thursday, October 24, 2013

V. 2, #209: October 24, 2013

That's it, get out! I'm giving you the boot!
The old heave-ho, as sailors used to say.
I'm stuffing you back down the garbage chute
you climbed up from. I'm calling it a day.

Like last week's papers, baby, you're old news.
Like birds that squawk too much I set you free.
You're out like my old pair of mud-caked shoes.
I'm pushing the ejector button, see?

You're welcome as mosquitoes, gnats, and flies,
or half a worm baked in an apple pie.
So buzz the hell on off now, if you please,
and let this gesture serve as my goodbye.

Auf Wiedersehen, goodbye, and fare the well;
on second thought, strike that. You go to hell.


Anonymous said...

Our secret that I keep. To keep you is impossible. You are a bird to fly away and be free. but our secret will always come back with a call of sweet siren song that is not heard by the ears but by the heart. A song that sings to me from so far but heard so close as tho you are already with me, held in my embrace. Ill keep our secret a mum on my lips but it screams from my heart, hidden between darkness and the soul. Our secret is pure and good it frees me from a hunger that can not be fed, from a thirst that can not be quinched, it fills me in passion and love. Our secret that I keep. Andrew Knox

Scott said...

Lovely, Anonymous. Thank you.