newark

Just back from costa rica - went a little wild, partyed like a rock star.

Here is the first draft of something, that Could be good


Bread Alone

Scared to death
Never afraid
Filled with the courage
Of a teenage prostitute

I seek physical closeness I enjoy so much
It is intimacy that worries me
Loving has always come easy for me
So has ending things life or relationships

Like most grapes
On the vine, I had promise
Strong and virile my branches where impressive
Crushed so I could become fluid

Incarcerated in a cold cellar
I fermented quickly
Perhaps an early frost hurt me
Maybe I was harvested to soon

Unlike wine in a casket
I do not age well
Rather I decay slow and evenly
None can stand to taste my harshness

With each ring of the might oak
I turn sourer to near vinegar
Still I long to find a woman who could drink
My acquired bitter taste