The words written,

have me feeling

sickly – un-smitten,

through the text,

be me sensing one

yellow-starred Apex,

“art”, or something,

special status – VIP

gums – bumping,

keep it sloppy,

your literary versions

parties with Pop Queens,

it almost hurt me,

be not for a sudden

void of curiosity,

two masters, one crown,

too many jars

full of HONEY to count,

volume’s up, open trunk

toes tapping

to your wordy junk,

speakers thumping,

I take the trash out at night

blood stops pumping,

and…..so here I go,

paddling my way

to be broken by the sea,

be it one born of saline,

or oceans of lies

it is my serpentine,

and I, its wiry chord,

whatever be it was

to my own accord,

do not fool yourself to believe,

that my yellow star

takes this seriously.

7 thoughts on “Apex.

  1. JMC813 says:

    Another brutally straightforward piece of self. Strange I find these words so relevant.