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Sup
A group of under-twenty's, riding
down the boulevard not hiding anything from any eyes, pass me by in my disguise. Glasses with dark lenses set under a hat; my nose is wet, I keep having to push them up. The guy who's driving waves, says 'Sup? Trying to hold my belly in, Try not to scowl, but not to grin; Trying to look nice, not cool, but end up looking like a fool. But that's not what the driver thinks, Because he either squints or winks, I think the former, but the latter makes me wish my abs were flatter. Under fat they do exist, unattained, a goal I've missed. I wonder how I'd fair in bed with him based on what I've just said. Later now, alone in bed, shoveling food into my head, I think that I'll get fit tomorrow. Until then I smile, swallow. © 2014 Nicholas Emeigh |
Read by the Author
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SoundCloud Reading
Part of the group "Record-A-Poem," and part of the Playlist "The Poetry of Nicholas Emeigh" which includes 40+ other poems.
COMING
SOON
SOON
Notes: This poem was written on Saturday, April 12, 2014. It's pretty self explanatory. I'm overly insecure sometimes, and I definitely don't see myself as others see me. I don't know why, but it's true. At least I'm not a cocky asshole. Anyway, enjoy.
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The unique works displayed on the pages herein are © 1997-2013 Nicholas Emeigh. Use is restricted.
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