I am a ball of it
I’m feelin sick
As I step out
Onto the street
The music helps
But I am all of it
I’m a ball of it
I am homicidal
So sad I am sick
My stomach as hollow
As eyes catchin
My glance
And she said ‘you’re
Goin and gone”
And she’s right
I got no worries
Now’s the time for
Yellow-green melancholy’s
To dream of questions of
Love, of dreams
Of death and travel
Twitching and singin maniacally
As abstract and youthful things
I am in abundance
And happy
I am Oedipus’ last sight
I am all of it
I am a ball of it
poem by Hubert J. Humperdink
Added by Poetry Lover
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