Dear Yesterday,
NOW is so fast the weather isn't here yet. NOW is big like a brother and more expensive than a greasy quantum mechanic’s bill for overhauling your fate. NOW pops out of every second's birthday cake wearing nothing but a watch. NOW does a mobius striptease to the beat of your heart. NOW is half-naked. The future is NOW (but just a little bit later).
Sincerely,
Tomorrow (and Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow)
Viewing: Postcard Poem - View all posts
Postcard from a Lost Thing
Postcard from a Lost Thing
by Philip Norton aka Preachermansays
by Philip Norton aka Preachermansays
Dear Loser,
I’m over here. Somewhere you haven’t thought of yet. I suppose it’s as bad a place as any, since by the definition of my condition, I am somewhere that has escaped your searching and longing and frustrated scrounging. I am lonely. But it is in some ways nicer to be an object of your desire, than one in your possession. And yet, I am concurrently upset at your having managed to have lost me in the first place. I just hope you don’t forget all about me after a few weeks. The weather is dusty.
Love,
Lost
p.s. check under the sofa stupid