Lennon growls
and tears apart
the walls
with six strings
of fingernail
agony
shredded
ripped
my back to
pieces
bloodied
with not
a band aid
in sight
nothing to imagine
cant start over
just blood on
my carpet
under tonight's
full moon
I take off my glasses
slowly
and
call
911
knowing
full well
this is not
the kind
of emergency
they are
trained
for
*Can be found in my book Dead Hip
i feel like that guy who read to much into that Salinger book,for reason beyond this poem & i guess like Mccartney or yoko. nice write, robert
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