He Sees Through My Lens
Listen to jazz, as I fall to sleep.
So all that I dream, collapse in a heap...
of trombones and saxes
of warm, soapy beats.
This is so easy.
To take off my skins,
throw them to the ground.
Walk out in ripped jeans and laugh in a crowd.
Turn on the TV
and stare at the clouds.
So much in one evening.
Can't even describe the speed of this pen.
As it touches down, I'll spin it again.
To write a new rhyme,
just where to begin..
It's been chosen for me.
And I would've sworn
it's under my bed.
The iPod turned off,
but it plays on instead.
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