Sunday, April 27, 2014

it, April Twenty-seventh


I really hate
Feeling "it" in my bones--
That inexplicable knowing
That comes before you're 
Supposed to know
I am sure that it is
Some of kind of
Psychological bla bla bla
A cognitive error
Brought on by a 
Selective memory
My brain attaching
Where there is none
But I don't care
I don't care 
What it actually is
It feels like knowing
I would much rather
This feeling in my bones
Not be there
I'd rather it be
Part of the white noise
Of a chaotic universe
Where fucked up shit
Happens and sometimes
A person we're thinking about
Is the one
Who falls
And, when we find out,
We think, "Oh... sad." without
Feeling in our bones
That we knew
Before we heard

April Twenty-seventh

On the road again
Songs that sound like other songs
Clog the radio

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