poem 50

werewolf apprehension experts seek me
I have shifted too many times.
I have been too many things
Too many lapses in the human skin
I am see through.

This poem wanted to be a tiger
But it’s a lost dog poster
Stapled too many times
To a wooden power pole.
I digress,undress under duress
And just made a mess of the second
Stanza.

Where was I. Oh yes, apprehension
Seeks me out under tables too big
To see the ceiling above.
Scraps have been dropped into bowls,
I lap at the gravy mad elf.
I have shifted too many times,
I become c-thru rulers in a
Dank basement art classroom.

I digress–wait we did this already….

I lose my shit, transform from autobot to decepticon.
Under moon phase nacho cheese stylus evenings
I trace where the last one of me was last seen,
Was it obvious j was losing my mind?
Or did you reckon so from the throes of whoa
I made as I broke upon light pole holy sonnet roles.
I made a mess of me and this poem and those sad
werewolves who never should have been
exploited this way.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s