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By @Nocturne

On The Nose

I can’t keep promises

Myself can’t even trust me

I drink to make life better but it dulls nothing

and I’m alone just more

I make love to a man’s crooning voice and his old Greaser hair

yet not finding that postcoital euphoria

In a way he’s not pleased me enough

But his tunes make me become his, no questions asked

I need some sort of aim

But I don’t necessarily

My nature demands me to wander

I can’t keep promises

They say to write drunk and edit sober

I just wish I wrote subtle beautiful poetry while drinking

But I just write for attention

Too much of a rooster in the night to work up real courage

Does that count as poetry?

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