The span of the globe shakes,
bombs blood fucking hate.
I want to make sweet love but
so much shit is on my plate.

I got a job I don’t want to say,
it’s okay but I work hard to play.
I do so every night my friend,
and every mother-fucking day.

Wink I guess you’ve guessed
I’m the best at nothing I love it.
No one turns to me for not
a thing nothing not shit.

I don’t care what people think,
I want to be a machine.
Just move not thinking a thing
except count count counting.

Mundane I can be and bland
so bring that fun in a can.
We can sit on the couch awhile
drink hops until we smile man.

That shit I think is so lofty
and I can over analyze it all.
Sometimes I just need a pen
and some fucking alcohol.

Written 5/9/2015

(Wow. I never knew I could be so beautiful. Lol. I found this in a pile of pile of papers with poems on them.🤣 Glad I grew up and none of that is true today…)

3 Comments Add yours

  1. kristianw84 says:

    I was worried about you for a second, Winchester. 🤣 It’s always fun to look back on what our younger selves have written, and see how much we’ve changed. The flow is lovely, though. Seems you’ve always had a knack for rhymes.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. J.Michael says:

      Bombs blood and hate Kristian. That’s what the world is. It’s messed up.

      Liked by 2 people

      1. kristianw84 says:

        Oh, I didn’t mean to imply that I don’t agree with you. It’s just not what I’m used to seeing from you. You’re not wrong. The world is a scary place.

        Liked by 1 person

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