See, Saw

My days are numbered

How bout you?

Pretty sure it’s 42…

All my sleepy ways are slumbered

Underneath the overpassing

underclass of over-working

under-reaching overtures of undertrue

Gimme gimme ever gets

Inny minny minuettes

Don’t you own your manors yet?

Just an incision--

Open up wide

We’ll put some attractive distractions inside

With barely a scar

And rarely a sight to go off too far

These are the worlds we’ve been dreaming of late

Fee, fight, foe, fumble

into a crumbling fate

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

42...interesting you pick that number...that is how old i thought i would be when i died...but Elvis went at 42 instead.

i like the nature of this poem...and interesting word play...

if only we can get rid of those scars and hold onto those dreams...

[Crispy]

42 is the meaning of life, the universe and everything 8)

And I appreciate your noble notions~