October 1, 2008

middle finger march

You grab with an open palm
But your grab is a stab opposite calm
Frantically I panic as I bleed automatic
It flows as the beat slows until finally static
Words cannot express the knot you tied
When I open wide, each syllable seems to hide
Emotionally over you, so over us two and us too
So I'm looking for new, a new boo among so few
I'm not looking for hooking up with just anybody
But looking for hooking up with that special somebody
Lonely I've become and overcome with fear and anxiety
So overshadowed, not hallowed but still haloed tried to see
I want to be me, but me is the nice guy who finishes final
Why does my kind fall behind like a continuum of loves denial
It's happened repeatedly again and then when I think it's done
She comes along, it's been so long but now I've found the one
Or have I? Nope, I fall ass over face, what a waste it seemed
I guess friendship was on her mind, but I find that kind to be dreamed
So you see, you sleep but I keep on scheming and writing
Well, not so much scheming as teaming words in poor lighting
Damn this lamp is like you, bright, slight and slender but easily turned off
It's apparent that apparently I was not the correct guy to help you get off
So get off, get bent in the jail sense, it's going to hurt but rough it
A finger or two to linger a few while I sit on my tuffet eating Ms. Muffet
Was that muffled, apologies for my middle finger policies
I know that blow wasn't rough but hoe right it was slender mockeries
Well, I'm off, I mean, I'm high like loft, liftoff bitch
Peace out, I doubt you care what I write about you bitch

steven walsh (Rochester, NY, 1987)


Anonymous said...

sheer empathy with mr. walsh. she's a grand slam bee-otch