Poem I wrote on a lonely sunday afternoon

I’m good without a god;
and I’m human enough
to be treated as such,
though I’ve probably loved
a little too much.
And touch is equal to craving
and life is equal to saving
and the climate is ever changing;
because of the struggle,
we suffer enough.
After Forrest and Jenny walked through D.C.
you hated the feeling of watching her leave
again, but
this reflection, is you and me, and us and them.
And Jimi Hendrix hands move soft like silk
on freshly shaven skin,
soft within
and activism springs forward
from man and his kind
from women, equally divine.
But businessmen still drink my wine,
and ignorance destroys my Earth;
and intellectually speaking,
I don’t know what to do
when I feel lonely like this
on a sunday afternoon.


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