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Don't Forgive Me


by Darryl Price


 

 

of anything if that's the way you feel love must go off its nut. But watch out for

thorn bushes that grow from holes in the ground. You will be

seen as the coming to life new spring devil beneath

the see-through fabric of cold winter. This might even fascinate

some. There's always a taker. So, good luck there. Personally

I never wanted to see you grow permanent horns

 

for me. That's such a boring waste of breath. Everyone's got

a set by the way, but they don't harden into forever

unless you miss the time to retract all claws. Even

then I suppose it's not too bad, because you won't be the

only one being invented wearing a concrete and ready,

defensive-mode-like helmet of bone. I mean look at all those leftover dinosaur marbles rolling across the museum floor like last century's dimes!

 

Never wanted to join a single group of slow plodders

myself. That appears to be such a sad emotional suicide just

waiting to happen, like being eaten alive from the inside

of a lonely crowded room by unseen forces—not my scene, man, not into

it. I've been down long before but that's no reason to give up on

the fun ghost now. That time will come of its own volition.

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