someday i’ll be able to buy a guitar
from my own money and smash
it against my head,
until either the wood of it
or my skull cracks.
i don’t really mind because
i would probably end up being a
madwoman after months of getting a job
and working hard for the money
that i will then save and hide at the
farthest place in my closet ’cause i want to
reach the price of the guitar that i
badly want to buy.
and then after smashing it,
i will think about
the guitars other musicians have
destroyed. and then i will cry because
i am no musician, therefore i have
no rights to break a musical instrument.
and i will regret
buying it because i should have spent
my money on cheese burgers.
and i will be left with chunks of wood,
broken strings and bleeding head.
but i will be happy too because i am
satisfied with the little song i made
while beating myself with the
guitar i bought
fresh from the shop.
YOU ARE READING
Found This Book Somewhere In The Forest
Poetry"Talk to my soul later midnight, when the moon's at its peak. That's the only way of communication that I know, because my physical lips will stutter if I told you about how I want to tear my human skin apart and go out."
