Thursday, March 7, 2024

Camille: My So-Called Poetry

 


CAMILLE

 

"You're too happy!" she snapped as we traipsed by,

"The world is a garden of grue!

All sex is a struggle of bugs in the mud

And your Father-God's lousy too!"

 

"Time is a trap with teeth that will gnaw;

The sea is a seething waste;

The earth is a sludge we trudge drudging along;

And art is quite quickly erased."

 

"Knowing everything stings and is empty, Camille,

We might as well go on our way,

Doing just as we've done, but sadder." She smiled.

"That's just what I'm trying to say."




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