With each new holiday,
we are told to purchase,
fake plastic memories
for a fake plastic purpose.

Fake Plastic trees
for Christmas to usher.
Fake Plastic hearts
for Valentine's lovers.

Fake Plastic wreaths
for a New Year’s front door.
Fake Plastic pumpkins
for Halloween decor.

For Easter we have
fake plastic eggs
and fake plastic grass
fake plastic time, for us to pass.

Now we have plastic oceans
and plastic rain.
plastic forests
and plastic terrains.

Plastic is what the fish and whales feast on.
Plastic is what we base our economy on.

Plastic plates with plastic silverware,
Plastic here, plastic everywhere.

A fake plastic earth will be forming soon.
With a fake plastic sun and fake plastic moon

I am the Hatter who is mad, they say.
Gone around the bend in every way.

A loon of the sorts who adores riddles and tea,
drowning in a land of ecstasy.

Come with me now! And please don’t fret!
I’ll show you wonders you will never forget!

I’ll show you heaven, hell, and everything in between,
the moon, stars, spiraling galaxies!

A magical realm where nothing is what it seems,
rabbits in waistcoats and a vicious red queen.

My home has an abundance of enchanted food and drink;
when consumed it could make you grow tall or shrink.

I am the mascot of this terrain.
Everyone knows me by my name.

So, let’s go and take my hand.
To a place that Alice called Wonderland!

The Queen of Hearts
makes her move,
adrenaline chess
to construe.

The enzymes melt
her painted frown,
with head held high
she adjusts her crown

She remembered who
she once was,
anticipating
breathless pause.

Around the King
her fingers grasp
to set him on
the Bishop's path.

And by her hand
he meets his fate
he is no more
by her, "checkmate".

I was told Rock Bottom is a sad place.
A land full of misery and disgrace.

Rock Bottom wasn’t bad at all,
I had quite a joyful ride taking that fall.

Lessons were learned in that enchanting city.
It taught me how to be grateful and not to wallow in self pity.

Everyone should visit Rock Bottom once or twice.
It is a great reminder of how amazing it is to be alive.

The most dazzling sight can be found at Rock Bottom’s pit,
just tilt your head up and you can see it.

A beacon of light that will sting your eyes,
rainbows that magically crystallize.

If you ever find yourself hitting Rock Bottom,
take heed that this is not an unfixable problem.

Do not let yourself become distraught.
Observe the lessons that will be taught.

Learn from them and let yourself grow,
to that beacon of light with the magnetic glow.

Karma doesn’t forget.
She always comes to collect.
She has a lengthy list,
No one goes unchecked.

Days, years, months may pass; time means nothing.
She glides in undetected,
you will never see her coming.

Sweet Mother Karma may my vengeance be yours,
there is a price for my sorrow and hurt.

“Be patient” she said “ and do not be sour”
“I have felt your agony, but I chose the hour”

“Hold your head high, do not dwell on the past”
“Leave the justice to me, no questions asked”

Karma delivers her price depending on how the pain is received.
So always remember to practice self-control and dignity.

Keep moving forward, with grace and class,
because Karma is watching to see how you react.  

To the people you hurt or have lied to before,
I would make amends to settle the score.
Mother Karma is coming, she knows what you did.
A thief in the night, she does not forgive.

“It's not easy being green", Kermit the Frog once said.
Since yellow and blue make this color, is it better to be them instead?

I have been blue once or twice.
It did not feel good, did not feel nice.

Sad and alone is what blue means to me.
Blue is the color I never want to be.

Yellow is another color I have endured.
It made me feel ashamed, confused, and unsure.

Coward and no backbone is what I know,
is my experience with being yellow.

And just like Kermit, I have been green on an occasion.
It's an emotion that’s hard to give an explanation.

Jealous, spiteful, angry, and mean,
is what I felt while being green.

So maybe all these colors I need to ignore.
None of them are easy to be, of this I am sure.

Go ask Alice in her padded cell
how she took a tumble and fell
down a rabbit hole of illusion
now don’s a straight-jacket of confusion.

Go ask Alice with her veins full of Lithium
how she surrendered to her delirium
of smoking caterpillars and a
grinning feline,
now attached to an Intravenous mainline.

Go ask Alice about her sanity
how it vanished in this asylum of rhapsody
in a fog that is translucent and hypnotic
in her Wonderland of painted narcotics.

Come one, come all!
I invite you now to the narcissistic ball!

A herd of manipulators will dominate this masquerade.
It will be a sight to see, get your ticket now and don’t be late!

The theme of tonight’s event is sociopathic tendencies,
preying on other people’s vulnerabilities.

Infatuated with themselves, lack any feeling.
Making love to their reflection is what they find appealing.

Mirror mirror on the wall
who is the grandest egomaniac of all?
They will be crowned tonight, didn’t you know?
You will find out if you dare to show!

Revolution is calling.
The guillotine responds
to his list of names,
it called upon.

Spewing propaganda,
he doesn’t hold back.
Pen in hand
with a medicated bath.

Drawing out anger
through a written word.
A Radicalization
that was never heard.

Death is the answer,
it sets us free.
A decapitated head
for liberty.

The uprising continued
just as he planned,
for revolution ends
where it began.

A gregarious culture
connected to a stream,
an electric herding
of mediocre self esteems.

A network of fringe
for the modern conformity.
A new breed of introverts
plugging antisocial irony.

The witch is dead?
Can this be?
My sister is gone,
so why am I happy?

Am I the wicked
and not the good?
Are these feelings I'm feeling
to be understood?

If the wicked do not rest
will she find her peace?
Did the evil she possess
get passed on to me?

There's a smile on my face
to mask my pain.
I will mirror the Munchins
celebration in vain.

"Ding ****!",  They cheer
parading down the road,
celebrating Dorothy
and her little dog, Toto.

She murdered my sibling
by her twisting home.
She came from Kansas
a place unknown.

Who is the child,
that is getting applause?
A demon to destroy
the Witches of Oz?

I need to send her back
with a simple spell,
back to Kansas;
back to hell.

I may be the next witch
on her list,
to eradicate
with a house that twists.

The Emerald wizard will answer her call.
For there’s no place like home, after all.

Indeed, father! The Jabberwock is nigh!  
I’ll go with my vorpal sword,
his head will be no more
and slay him down, will I!

I’ll meet him in the tugley wood
by the Bandersnatch domain.
I’ll wait for him on the edge,
for his head, I’ll come to claim.

I have slain the Jabberwock,
his body will decay!
Let’s all meet by the Tumtum tree
and rejoice this frabjous day!

The slithy toves and mome raths
all now well understood. ’
Twas brillig, it was Indeed,
for it ended as it should.

Colors are merely light
manifested by the sun.  
Prisms travel on a beam,
a rainbow of reflections.

Earth is just the canvas
it uses to create
brilliant diamond hues
of painted landscapes.

Polychromatic masterpiece
and every shade is new;
emerald blades of grass
with rhinestone beaded dew.

A bejeweled hummingbird
buzzes through the air,
magenta flapping feathers
aviate without a care.

Frosted icing mountain tops
shimmer in the background
aquamarine oceans
glitter waves come crashing down.

Turquoise dancing blooms
twirl along with the breeze.
Golden butterscotch buttercups
join the choreography.

Bronzed crystal sand
radiate in the heat
cooled with cobalt waters
by tinted tides that reach.

Succulent strawberries
that are painted ruby red,
purple sequenced pomegranates
dance in my head.

A kaleidoscope of colors
provided by the sun.
Put here for our enjoyment;
put here for everyone.

Oh, so many rainbows!
Oh, so little time!
Please enjoy the tapestry!
Don’t let it pass you by!

The country can live
the king is now dead.
The rebellion exchanged
a crown for his head

The guillotine answered
the blade was released,
but third law prevails,
as actions repeat.

The uprising's father
was next on the list
for it to continue
for it to persist.  

A revolution can die
when they eat their own.
Sir Isaac was precise.
Robespierre should've known.

My body causes
a chemical reaction,
with the help from
the laws of attraction.

I store a nectar
my pheromones release,
it serves a delicious
butterfly feed.

Oxytocin
is what it's called,
in my belly is
where it’s installed.

The butterflies swarm
when oxytocin’s produced.
They come to digest
the catalytic juice.

Flipping and turning
eating ravenously,
filling me with bliss
a divine ecstasy.

There is no other feeling
that I can compare,
when the butterflies dine
from my stomach lair.

There is a hole in her core she must sate.
So, she drives to the grocery store before it’s too late.

She steers the cart in search
of junk food.
She spots a case of cupcakes that can ease her mood.

Powdered donuts on a shelf she can reach.
Next, she chooses Bottled sodas, she packs up five each.

Muffins, Doritos, Cheetos, Funyuns and Snickers she will par-take.
She must not forget about the Little Debbie snack cakes.

Once the cashier starts scanning her vittles,
She starts to feel a tingly rush form in her middle.

She pays her fee then rushes to her vehicle parked afar
Then unloads the groceries on the passenger seat of the car.

As she sits behind her steering wheel.
She appraises her edible saviors, then makes her appeal

She starts with the Snickers shoving them down her throat,
The empty void inside her fills as she lets out a choke.

The Funyuns and muffins are next on her seat.
She devours them in seconds, puffing up her cheeks.

Doritos, Cheetos and snack cakes are inhaled like oxygen,
She is slightly starting to feel whole again.

The cupcakes are the last morsels of her stock
She washes them down with the soda she bought.

When the food is gone she observes the food wrappers in her space.
She glances in the rearview mirror but fails to recognize her face.

Powdered sugar and Cheeto dust crusting around her lips,
A sob escapes her chest as sanity begins to slip.

There is one more mission she must forgo
Opening her car door, she shoves a finger down her throat.

***** is released from her belly’s lair.
Stomach acid and bile sting the night air.

She appraises the regurgitation splattered on the concrete.
Then senses the empty void is gone, her task is completed

My aged calloused sweetheart,
is not what it used to be.
The harden tissue’s numb
but, remains sugary sweet.

The bitter licorice years
did not alter any flavor.
The black root didn’t spoil
my saccharine behavior.

The lemon drop months
did not make me sour.
My face did not pucker
with each ****-full hour.

My sweetheart remained sweet
and it will always be.
This world will never change
my sugary pulse beneath.

They call me the Cheshire Cat, that's my name.
A creation out of Lewis Carroll's brain.

I live in a in land of wonder you see,
and store plenty of tricks up my sleeve.

I'm a feline that can grin from ear to ear.
I can also make parts of my body disappear.

I am in love with irony and all its complications.
I adore philosophy and erratic explanations.

Speaking in metaphors, that's my intricate specialty.
I'm not insane, I just live in a different reality.

A reality that fulfills my immortal amusement.
A world where I demonstrate my brash imprudence.

Wonderland's espionage is a good title for me,
eavesdropping on all there is, nestled in my tree.

SHHHHH! I see a young girl approaching, she is coming closer.
She looks alone and lost ......I wonder??...

Curiosity can't **** this cat or make me fall.

I am a bit mad, I dare say, but aren't we all?

Love your Mother, because she loves you.
She brings you rainbows with radiant hues.
She brings you purples, reds, greens, and blues
on every flower petal, drenched in dew.

Celebrate your Mother, for her hand, is the sun.
Her gown is the wind that birds glide upon.
Her hair is babies breathe, free and undone;
growing wild in the fields where violets do run.

Blanket your Mother with adoration and time,
give her the space and peace of mind.
Her womb is a melon succulent and divine,
a grape that drips off an emerald vine.

Nurture your Mother, for the nature she holds,
never let her be compromised, bought, or sold.
Her pollen is life's one true mold.
Her soil is richer than diamonds and gold.

To forgive is to forget,
or so I am told.
Erase the memories
you need to unload.

Self inflict amnesia
absolve from within.
Don’t bare the scars
of another mortal sin.

But I need to remember
I don’t need to forget,
the sorrow I swallow
in each Percocet.

Misery is a friend.
She reminds me often,
the torment I suffered
cannot be forgotten.

Generation of attention
with a dopamine bend.
Anti-social irony
is the fresh fake trend.

A pale heart will wait
to turn ruby red.
The ego's more shallow
on the numeric thread.

An invisible crowd
will have a new pet name.
Neurotic subscribers
will be led by the vain.

Just follow the lead,
and drink their arsenic.
The poison becomes sweeter,
in the cup that you sip.

Dorothy Gale,
are you okay?
Is the Clozapine keeping
your twisters at bay?

Do the brainless scarecrows
invade your dreams?
Is your sanity
unraveling at the seams?

No witches on brooms
are taking flight,
no flying demon monkeys
are coming tonight.

There's a yellow brick road
to your padded room.
where a straight jacket
waits to seal your doom.

There are no ruby slippers
to take you back home.
No wizard to cure
your psychotic syndrome.

An odyssey of truth
across the seven seas.
An adventure of a lifetime,
take my hand and come with me!

I have a ship named Censor,
I'll navigate her wheel.
I'm the Captain of her anchor,
the master of ideas.

Perception is her mascot,
conscience is her sail.
A religion navigates
a balance on the scale.

Her starboard gravity
will tell you what to know.
Her mesmorizing port
will show you where to go.

They both conceal the waves
to capsize our ideas.
An agenda of our thought
to break a bending will.

The truth is just a scratch,
upon her glossy surface.
Concealing all the bias
will always serve a purpose.

A candy castle so tasty and sweet
made out of the most delectable treats.

Peppermint domes that swirl red and white,
glisten and shine in the glorious light.

Licorice steeples, to the sky they ascend.
with Fruit Roll-Ups as flags flapping in the wind.

The drawbridge is made of warm gingerbread,
suspended by Twizzlers of cherry red.

Toffee and brittle brick up the structure
Painted with icing of contrasting colors.

Frosting fastens gumdrop shingles in place,
the roof sparkles with crystallized sugar lace.

A lollipop wreath hangs on the chocolate bar door,
whip cream and cherries top the decor.

Jolly Ranchers are the windows that do reside.
A rainbow-tinted world can be viewed from inside.

The palace is surrounded by a gentle chocolate stream
Where marshmallow peeps like to float on and dream.

Annual preventive care
for the female clam.
Undress and saddle up
modesty be ******.

"Giddy up partner",
in a thin paper robe.
Fun times are coming
by gynecologist’s probe.

Feet in stirrups
with a widespread.
A Vaseline rod
is what’s ahead.

Insertion with small talk
is always a treat.
while your *** is sticking
to an examining sheet.

A pinch of the ******
it’s ready to smear.
On a slide it will go
to a lab that is near.

Just when you think
that it is the end.
The jelly of KY
starts to suspend.

The gyno was too generous
with the slippery goo.
But it’s time to get dressed
the next patient is due.

I’ll leave the office
with slime up to here.
A departing gift
I get every year.

A contest for an added section of a children's book, Thelma the Unicorn.

https://allpoetry.com/contest/2741918-Thelma-the-Unicorn


Thelma's Response To Otis

I’m not. I’m not perfect.....

How dare you, my friend!
I am deeply offended!
Perfection is boring,
and flaws are splendid

I am a mosaic.
A broken masterpiece,
an abstracted rainbow,
authentic and unique.

My blemishes are mine
They’re what I want to be,
perfectly imperfect,
whimsical and free!

I built a straw man
of perspective,
out of fear and hate.
I built him out of issues
I know you can relate.

The straw man is a ruse
for my vanity.
A spotlight is what I crave
for all humanity.

My straw man gives me purpose;
on a podium, I stand.
An audience attention
is something I demand.

I talk about propaganda.
I talk about pretend.
I talk about my straw man,
I want to break and bend.

I'll destroy what I've created
this I have no doubt.
Setting fire to my straw man
with a flame you can't put out.

Break a leg everyone!
The show’s about to start!
The scripts have been rehearsed!
Everyone should know their part!

The curtains will disjoint
under the spotlight’s glare,
while the audience awaits
in the elevated chairs.

The performance was electric!
An Emmy worthy play!
They bought it line and sinker
much to their dismay.

You showed them conflict
and fed them fairy tales.
An epic distraction
for dramatic ticket sales.  

The crowd will pick a side
and it will resonate,
cognitive dissonance
for us to captivate.

There is no left or right
in this theatrical brigade.
Self-serving is our mission.
We are one and the same.

And they will never know.
And will never ask us how.
Because the show is finally over
as we take our final bow.

I cursed the moon that day.
I cursed the moon that day.
Nothing’s been the same,
since you’ve gone away.
I cursed the moon that day.

I shunned the stars for you.
I shunned the stars for you.
For they won’t last,
they’ll fade out too.
I shunned the stars for you.

I cloaked myself in night.
I cloaked myself in night.
Bathed in darkness,
I’ll never see light.
I cloaked myself in night.

Once upon a dark moon
not so long ago,
I went to see my other side,
the place of lost shadows.

The melancholy pushed me
into another plane.
A life transcending alter,
I did not pass through in vain.

I ventured to the edge
and that was close enough.
It pushed me back to life
before I could give up.

Coming back to consciousness
I was not the same.
My train of thought had shifted,
something in me changed.

Oblivion didn't scare me
when I laid down at night.
My future stopped controlling me
when I turned off the lights.

So, when curiosity strikes you
to venture your unknown,
please proceed with caution,
there's something you should know.

Everything has a price
and you will have to pay.
It takes away a piece of you,
a toll some would say.

I paid the worst of me
but that might not be you.
It could take away your best
if you make your way back through.

You took my sunshine with you
that dark and mournful day.
Turning my world around me
Into the color gray.

Your voice was like concrete
that I learned to lean upon.
When times got cold and hard,
I turned you up and sang along.

Now my lovely days are broken,
scattered in the breeze.
A song I’ll keep repeating
to set my soul at ease.

Farewell Mr. Withers,
your memory will stay.
I’ll keep your rhyme within me
as I walk on life’s pathway.

Orwellian madness
became fashionably late,
thirty six years
from the original date.

Fiction is front page
and truth is just a stranger.
A platform subscription
with prevaricator entertainers.

It can’t rain all the time
the clouds will make room
for colors to seep through
this gloomy afternoon.

A bow of colors
provided by the sun
follow the rain clouds
after they are done.

Red, green, blue
and everything in between.
Prisms of marvel
for all our eyes to see.

You can’t have colors
without the grey days.
Rainbows will appear,
they always find a way.

A man stands behind a podium and microphone,
words comes through speakers of static.
His lips propel the stagnate tone,
standing poised, confident and charismatic.

He holds conviction through his behavior,
his speech are the people's gospel.
He is the way, the truth, their savior,
a modern day philosophical apostle.

Beneath the facade is a rotten marrow plate,
a poison tongue with a malevolent purpose.
Trepidation is a weapon that he demonstrates,
revealed under the scratched surface.

A wolf that don's a sheep's skin,
who has found a herd to operate.
His malefic influence is about to begin,
a crowd he will manipulate.

Kool-Aid is the key to the golden gates,
he said it is the only way out.
Tip the cup, take a sip, have a taste,
expel all your fear and doubt.

Trust is an illusion,
a complex metaphor,
that blankets insecurities
with the closing of a door.

Trust is just perspective,
of wanting to believe.
The power of our thoughts
can be easily deceived.

Trust can evolve.
It never stays the same.
It falls in and out of favor,
from the relationships you gain.

I only trust myself.
I can see my own self through.
Nobody has my back
quite the way I do.

My candy heart bleeds with severity,
hemorrhaging despair and melancholy.

A new heartache for you to ignore,
what once was good will be no more.

My candy heart is achromatic,
devoid of color, systematic.

Black and grey is what I feel,
void of complexion nothing seems real.

My candy heart is numb and calloused,
paralyzed and unbalanced.

All that's left is anguish and pain,
the only emotions that remain.

My candy heart cannot be repaired
will not be saved can never be spared.

Demolished, some pieces lay absent,
shattered into a million fragments.

T-cells counting down
the immunity's response,
marrow has gone stale
with no resistance.

The tourniquet cuts off
a life that used to bleed,
with each passing drip
into an I.V.

I’m going to catch
the biggest one yet;
my headline is tabloid
and I’m all set.

I’ll sit here and wait
for you to scroll over.
Don’t be afraid,
scroll a little closer.

My ridiculous title
will reel you in.
The sleight of hand
is the deadliest of sins.

You click my bait,
caught in my trap,
reading through
each paragraph.

Integrity is gone.
It’s all about numbers.
A mouse click reveals
what it uncovers.

My therapy is chemical,
I go for weekly sessions.
My artery is femoral,
the site of my injection.

The venom attacks the mitosis
of my splitting cell.
Dyspepsia takes over
like a spinning carousel.

I use to have a paper doll
once upon a time.
She had bubble gum matted hair
and veins filled with turpentine.

Her dress was made of Percocets
that went past her knees.
She spent her time smoking cigarettes
to medicate her anxiety.

My paper doll began to fade
as the hours drifted by.
Her rainbow became dull and gray
and I began to wonder why.

It could have been the cigarettes
or the Percocets she took.
It could have been the anxiety
from the harsh judgmental looks.

My paper doll is gone
and I miss her every day.
I wish she was still here with me
and she didn't fade away.

The stripes have gone dull;
the colors won't bleed.
Did we muddle it up?
Did we **** the dream?

Or was it disguised as a nightmare
for the ones that believed
in the black of the morning
with the dirt on their sleeve?

Was it the salt that you tasted
when it didn't go your way,
manipulating the stars
to make them all pay?

Did your servants make a mint
off a functioning back?
You still didn't earn
the empathy that you lack.

The party is over
the one I once knew
a voice will be counted
inside the small booth.

So, raise your glasses up high
and share this drink with me!
Here's to America!
My land of the Free!

I’m a man, made out of the tin;
sheets of worn-out metal,
decaying in an orchard
with my trusty axe and kettle.

I cried myself to rust
because I have no heart,
No love for this metallic man;
no soul mate counterpart.

Can’t you hear the sounds
that echo underneath?
A hollow empty shell
where a heart's supposed to beat.

The days are long and grinding;
the nights are even longer.
Rotting away in this field
my mind begins to wonder.

I dream of sweet devotion
that I want to feel
and cardiac vibrations
put in this man of steel.

A coronary muscle
overflowing with affection
is all I ever wanted,
an emotional connection.

Wait! What’s this......??

I see ruby sparkles
and stare with fascination.
It's skipping upon some yellow bricks,
is this a hallucination??


To Be Continued.....

Allow me to introduce myself, I am the Lion that’s cowardly.
A **** in boots of the sorts, crippled with anxiety.

At this very moment, I am feeling sublime.
For I am laying face-up in a poppy field, ****** out of my mind.

The fog is starting to clear, it's all coming back to me now.
What was I thinking? What, when, why, how!?

It all started when I met a girl named Dorothy and her dog Toto,
accompanied by a tin guy with no heart and a brain dead scarecrow

She said that a wizard in Oz can put some courage in me.
All I need to do was to follow them to the Emerald City.

Some may call it a lack of better judgment, but I followed her lead,
skipping down a yellow brick road toward my destiny.

I immediately regretted it, but I was too scared to go back.
So I kept on following her regardless of my anxiety attack.

Now it could just be me...
but all things terrifying seem to follow Dorothy.

She is being stalked by a witch, traveling on a broom by air.
Her companions are flying demon monkeys, out of my worst nightmare.

I think that Dorothy may also be insane.
She keeps blabbering about a place called Kansas again and again.
I'm almost certain this place does not exist, she is talking crazy.
Maybe she should ask the wizard for a pill that will cure her insanity.

I think I'll just lie here in the poppies, pretending to be high.
Maybe they'll leave me here, I can only hope they pass me by.

Ill go back to my forest, back to my cowardly ways,
back to being scared of my shadow, back to better days.

Lucy is not in the sky
like you were told.
Her feet or on the ground
holding a piece of coal.

The rocking horse people
took her diamond away
and smeared marshmallow pie
across her narrow face.

The marmalade sky’s
ozone has disintegrated,
from the fumes of cellophane  
the flowers created.

The tangerine trees
turned to rust,
from newspaper taxis
exhaust pipe dust.

The girl with kaleidoscope eyes,
takes Prozac every day.  
She stays comfortably numb,
keeping despondency at bay.

“The Devil is in the details”,
is my demon’s favorite quote.
The surface under the layer;
a metaphorical antidote.

My demon demonstrates
that evil is absolute.
Even goodness can possess
a sinister root.

My angel shows me
a different aspect.
That divinity can be buried
under a diabolical effect.

Can’t have one without the other,
or so, I am told.
They are one and the same,
an unbreakable mold

Pushing some narcotics,
of yellow, red, and green.
A rainbow of biotic’s,
to match the color scheme.

I have an abundance of diuretics
all different shapes and sizes.
An organized aesthetic
for commercial enterprises.

Bring out your dead
with the appendages of coal,
a midnight shell,
for whom the bell tolls.

The streets are bleak.
The demise is contagious.
The Black Death is nigh
and nothing can save us.

The Reaper has arrived.
his scythe’s in demand,
with pestilence beside
the right of his hand.

Hail Mary full of grace
Tell me where you’ve been?
There smudges on my crucifix
And bruises on my chin.

Blessed is the fruit
that is rotten to the core.
Tell me what I want to hear
and I will bleed no more.

You cut me off in traffic
in your giant SUV.
No blinker or no warning,
no hospitality.

You did get a gesture
from my graceful lifted finger.
My middle phalange
was raised with some vigor.

I hope you have full coverage
because I’m about to start a claim.
I’ll set my car in over drive
and push you off my lane.

I’m a crazy woman driver.
You’ll find out in time
with screeching whitewall tires,
vengeance will be mine.

Betray me with a whisper
cradle me in shame
put me in your midnight blue
and give me all the blame.

Ignore the words
that haunt me,
use them as you wish,
project them with your doublecross,
and treat me like your *****.

My shattered porcelain heart,
broke on your concrete.
Piercing through the skin
underneath your calloused feet.

Drowning in regret
is all that's' left of me,
it grips me at my aching core
and will never let me be.