Through the walls

The faint music of Cobain’s squalid sound

The squared stillness of the freshly abandoned


An ageless house will shockingly crumble

An innumerate love is made of sand

Teachers teach us, please,

Love’s history, not Napoleon’s

We are most of us lovers not generals


Her strong resolve

Her lonely lust

Lousily beaten down like:

An underachieving prostitute

Or Brand Nubian’s



In go her headphones

Down go her eyes

On stay her sunglasses

Out goes her interest

At dawn and dusk she will be alone

Aggrievedly aware

Loneliness is a long-term deal


Poem By Alex Feldman

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