absconding, he loves

i do—

plugging ears and
synthesizing total silence, piercing rock n roll.
no notice of whatsoever, it’s detachment.

the lure to self,
to self alone…narcissism?
i do not know.

I still do—

nonchalant to you,
a little bit of urgency,
it gets obvious.

signing off, away!
that’s just me,
a state i can’t recuperate.

all of me…all of me…
if it ends in longing,
what is that to us?


About chester maynes

poet, and a lover of music and books.
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