Perfect Smiles Are No More

Perfect Smiles Are No More








There we go, Wasteland!
Loving not really, but the thing
—that only makes us happy.


The same cycle goes, without
saying, about escapist tendencies.


Loving thing, tender caresses
—Lacanian fantasies.


Nevermind the stars, our true nature.
Their influences are just imaginary.


See, now, our indwellings, barren abodes—yet endlessly


We smile at the Night Sky, and into the day

—love that's only meant for a daydream.









All and nothing

Some days,

when I've nothing better to do,

I pull out all my cardboard-

Cut-outs of you,


Pristine portraits,

Untinged by time,

Stills, provocatively,

Scissor my mind,


Quiet ripples,

Replayed and start,

Strident feelings,

Unfounded and stark,


Scentless posed thoughts,

Bring forth a past smile,

BLINK: And you're back,

  Into storage awhile.

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I can save a goat from a pack of wolves.

Abstract thoughts lead to great expectations.

As I escaped in my dream from the ghouls.

I’m forced to learn about the muscles striations.

Losing focus as the butterflies pass by.

They look so pretty that they cannot be real.

The past rain lies in the grass so it isn’t dry.

Then I feel a pain in my back that feels like cold steel.


Cold sweats in sweatpants.

Unimpressed by the visuals provided.

Which is why you only see me in sweatpants.

Everyone surrounding me looks misguided.

Blinded by the dark clouds.

The halo around my head gives me extra light.

You could never see my face is the crowds

Because I still am the only one with sight.


I know they can’t see the pretty butterflies.

So I feel sorry for them as they get their shoes wet.

Everyone is wearing their best in the summertime.

Now they’re mad and see the grass as a threat.

I don’t know if the cold steel is from me or a stranger.

I look at my reflection in a woman’s glasses.

She feels my presence and senses danger.

Right then I remember I’m headed to my classes.



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