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Crying with the Walls
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Older The wood grain calls my attention as I swim through the cushion.
An endless array of fishy turtlenecks flash by my obscured vision loss.
Until I become one of the inevitable liars, I will continue to eat.
You cannot comprehend what I have done to connect the acute separations.
They abound with bountiful blossom in the bosom of someone’s boss.
Why the colors flow with swirls of mixed delight may never be known
During my lifetime, because sausages will still be around.
Long after the endless journey has run out its pointless continuity,
The things we hate will prosper, stealing our jobs, our money,
Our precious materialistic monotony we all hold so dear.
Never fear, however, for as long as she’s around, everything will be pink.
With a flash that scalds even the most prolific of murderers,
My shirt squeezes tight my semi-desirable form.
I am the fantasy of most jelly lifeforms, this is true.
I have yet to recognize these elusive beings, unfortunately
They slip my detection and laugh with their friends.
I lick my palms and watch the white residue of exhaustion.
Recognition on the street is no longer possible.
What has happened here is forgotten at will with no flashbacks.
Déjà vu can kill the red-hearted Robbers who do nothing.
It’s insane to think about trying to change a mind like that.
I’ve tried before and she killed me dead.
I have no chance for revenge because she died of the drip soon after.
My friend is made of flannel, consequently, he’s very hot and sweaty.
I would like to see the faces that go along with all this incessancy.
Hesitation can twist a story about pickles with dust on them.
You end up talking about dust – this is why I dip my head in paint everyday.
