Floccinaucinihilipilification.A Poem by Thomas FitzgeraldThe act of assesing something thats worthless.A tiny and mere space of nothing in-between,
No smiles or tears to capture in one’s heart,
Lifeless emotion to stare on aimlessly,
Graves are open to fill in, in part.
Blank eyes have souls of no matter,
Tea stains in perfect hollow rings,
Thoughts come and go with furious wind,
Take attention of nothing he sings.
Fingers punching at plastic and horror,
Read on dear people no love of pans,
Lapping on vodka to feel something, anything,
Speed in lines in balls in acid coloured cans.
Brace yourself Time my w***e master,
I’m running to you now without jittery retention,
Catch my waist as wings give promise in attendance,
Pain gone or exhausted floccinaucinihilipilification.
© 2014 Thomas FitzgeraldAuthor's Note
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StatsAuthorThomas FitzgeraldWexford, Leinster, IrelandAboutTo all who know by now - I love you. For those that don't, I review a lot of work on here, and I expect the same in return, friend me but make sure to have conviction! I'm a horror writer mostly bu.. more..Writing
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