; not that kind of poetry

last night almost broke my heart dancing to
Cant Get No Satisfaction 
red light district, we saw angels falling and you smiledsmiledsmiled
high on substances, letter combinations I cant remember;
the music differs from corner to corner,
stars are vibrating to the bass
and neon lights flashing through
pavement philosophers
barefoot on rainwet concrete
graffiti from lost minds colours the walls
everything is on fire;
that caustic smell of burning tires
burning plastic
burning souls
up in the living room
white powder like snow on the blank table
you hand me the bill
& I say
that Ill never be that kind of poetry


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