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Poetry

The Frying Pan of our Demise

by a.h.s. boy


Now you say 
there is a ladder 
and we are climbing it

I want to be flat

So you say
life is ground
and we're covering it

and I want to stand still

you say this 
is the frying pan
of our demise

beyond which point we live
times two and suffer threefold
holding the delicate balance 
between our insane hands
like a ninth cup of coffee at 
ten a.m.--something you need--
something you can count on
a way of killing time to measure it by
there's no accounting for the cost of boredom
the price you pay in drunken sorrow
lip service to the pursuit of happiness
progress? what progress? this is
life, kids, no up, no down, just
forward, in all directions

Of course
the apocalypse is coming --
keep on your toes --
the big heat
fire & brimstone
do you know what
brimstone is? i 
didn't either i thought
it stood for visions
of your past

Difference is difference
whether between roses
or dogs
when a body meets a wall
it doesn't want to say hello
and they don't have
a good relationship

still more exciting
than
petrified wood

 

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