He's far too muc of a constancy
- considering that he doesn't exist -
Yet I have him on speed dial;
Him with his voice like a fist.
I don't even recall picking up the phone,
And suddenly, he makes himself known,
Criticizing every thing there is,
Some of which he was never even shown.
Like an ancient regret, a lost friend's voice,
He's the one acquaintance I didn't want to make.
Still, it's, maybe fortunately, in his nature
To make bonds that are impossible to break.
YOU ARE READING
A phone book
PoetryA loose continuation of A Few Hysterical Words, this time focused on character descriptions.
