TBD

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, commonly known as Prufrock, is a poem by the American poet, T. S. Eliot, begun in February 1910 and published in Chicago in June 1915. Described as a "drama of literary anguish," it presents a stream of consciousness in the form of a dramatic monologue, and marked the beginning of Eliot's career as an influential poet. With its weariness, regret, embarrassment, longing, and awareness of mortality, Prufrock has become one of the most recognized voices in 20th-century literature. This is my take on the same idea with a twist at the end.

TBD

feel, the page
a place to outline
insecurities
cruelties
the subversive elements that
drive the nail
into the hand

into the coffin

see yourself
flying out
side the city limits
while in here
imagine
how the page lays
out in someone else’s book

how it pokes

while
wanting a sip
of what the other person
drinks

things never imagined

a faint sound
false rivers running through it
a place to start
though this seems edgey
its not a good story

wander the streets
of course leads to a contradiction
by the sharp turn to the on ramp

thoughts stay asleep
under the pass,

a California winter approaches
city order
another level of jail

sound is heavy
the weather isn’t yours.

Breathe, its your last,
and you're under

remember

When on the other side,

write it down too