Litkicks Message Board Archive

My Obsession is Obsessed with Itself

Posted to Poetry

My obsession is obsessed with itself-
I smell shit;
I smell ink,
This place reeks of something
that I heard one time
while I was tripping-
Like thousands and thousands
of flies buzzing
over shit,
My life is something like that-
Vaguries and distractions
I've never quite been able
to place or name-
Just memories and seasons
that repeat themselves
again and again and again
and again and again...