As Is What Was is a collection of poems created with no thought at all. None. There is no control over grammar, sound, rhythm, idea, or anything really. Why? I thought it would be fun. Is it insane? Absolutely.
Be hold the pages that you used to rest your head in
Where your chest pushed towards
And you thought they were all your brethren
Be held by colours and a scenery so splendid
The purlieus of which you surmise
You’ll never ever settle in
Criss-crossed alleyways – that hawk doth sing
Somehow the nightingale is just another
Pub darlin’
A pint of guinness for your troubles
And an affair for your time
Fill the space between the numbers of the watch
With your desires
Breathe easy – you shan’t be caught
Nobody really even cares
Unless you twist into somebody
That nobody really can even bear
Buy yourself a flat and furnish it with all your cheer
The riverbed soaked up
All of last evening’s dears
And be sure they won’t be dead
As long as you don’t bother to look
Just rest your weary eyes
In the bosom of that book