We watch it ache and screech,
Tortured for some mercy in its misery,
We’re not allowed to wring its neck
All because the law can love a crow

Every time I mention its pain,
I get scolded. Chastised. Reminded.
This is farming country: and no one loves a crow
They eat the eyes of helpless, newborn lambs
All because farming country loves a lamb
Especially one they can eat themselves

The call on the phone goes nowhere,
Just like that now flightless, punished bird,
Concerns dismissed by automated machines,
No one bothers to come after the tone,
All because no one loves a crow.

I want to love you
Like an Iron Maiden
Loves a poor, unfortunate soul
I don’t want you to leave
My embrace, no matter,
How hurtful and ******

I watch as my Father
Makes tea for my Grandfather
(His Father-In-Law)
He removes the lid off the mug,
The hot water, inside it, once sealed,
He dabs the tea bag, it bounces, splashing,
He tears open the two sachets of sugar
Pours and mixes it all in (with no milk)
My Father has stubby, tradie fingers,
Watching them do such delicate work is odd
Then the tea sits in its plastic, blue mug
No one says a word.
Not I; not either of these men;
The tea is cooling, steaming,
We all watch, eyes intent and stern,
For a moment, the tea is sacred, holy,
A communion
Between a middle aged Catholic and an old atheist
Then, finally, this tea, horrid tasting, I imagine,
Is taken by the handle with a trembling hand
And it is sipped by trembling lips

Eve ate the untouchable apple
And was made to leave Eden
With Adam, beside her, and his child

Persephone ate the pomegranate
And was made to stay in Styx
With Hades as her husband

To stay or to leave,
I want a man to eat fruit with,
As lovers, loyal and sublime

I want to kiss his knuckles
His nails are neat but dirt dusted
His palms are red and raw
Fallen down, as high as he could on bark,
On his knees, teary eyed and in a heap,
The tree behind us, motherly and verdant,
Watches us kindly as I kiss her son
Kiss away his loneliness
Reward his thankless devotion
With sweetest dues

A star-crossed son was born
To the father whom he would ****
And to the mother whom he would kiss
In incestuous, marital vow one day

Welts upon his feet
Found in the forest, a baby crying,
He grew wise and wrong
Unaware of a conspired world

When Oracles did speak to him
As drunken men and and as pretty women
He took their words upon his heart
Without eyes gouged and necks broken

Open eyes looking, truly seeing,
He did bear the revolting truth
Without nary complaint
To the Gods who cursed him

Thus, it was Laius who lived
And it was Polybus who died
And it was Jocasta who did not see
Her son at the bejewelled altar

Rather, it was Merope, with her head turned,
Who saw dear Oedipus at the altar
Obeying the Will of the Gods
But to what ends?

He was meant to punish; to defy; to incite all evils
Not adhere to this cruel destiny
And now it is the wrong mother-wife
Whom he kisses, unravelling, in linen sheets

Diamonds shine, yes, that's true
But so does sunshine off a shoe
So does cheaper glitter
And the pristine fangs of a critter
And holographic paper
You're not special
You're just a lie

“Oh, what a wonderful wedding,”
Croons my best friend from across the table
“Yes, what a wonderful wedding,”
Swoons her worst enemy, agreeing,
Then, in unison strains, they both nod, decisive,
“Oh, yes, but what a shame,”
I blink, intrigued by the news ‘bout to break,
All whilst stabbing a fork at cake.
“The pure bride in white is a *****.”
They say, voices cacophonic and melodic,
“Her husband isn’t the one,
The one she hasn’t met yet,”
I sit between them, innocent,
Now utterly unengaged to the conversation,
Eating fondant; confounded; I don’t even know
Who the pure ***** bride in white is

Honey badger *******
Ugly son of ***** predator
Little ****** girl so sweet
Looking for something wild tonight
Ravage me like a beast please

The girl is pacing
For love she is waiting
No kiss on the lips
She is receiving

A loner and a renegade
In the city he had it made
It was a trick of the light
A deception I could never be right
I was caught up in his madness
To be loved at all was gladness
I wanted to hear it just that little bit more
His was a love like a convenience store
Apple pie: all artificial sugar to break my jaw

Happy 21st birthday

I remember the date of yours every time
And I know it’s not today
Makes it kind of funny
Since you never remember mine
And it’s not today either, don’t worry

I dream about you every so often,
My beautiful birthday queen,
The beauty standard who I hold myself to,
Skinny but imperfect

In my dreams, I feel your hands on my neck
Sometimes a wedding veil or silken glove,
Strangulate me too
Choking me, you’re choking me, I can’t breathe
I can’t breathe around you living either
You throttle me with…. with… with…

Anyways, I hope nothing but the best for you,
You, insufferable *****, you,
I have never felt lonelier than when I stood beside you,
My high school bestie whom I love to bits and pieces,

But happy birthday
You deserve nothing but the best
From me and from everyone else
On this day you have to share with your sister
And a bazillion other people, too
You deserve Vanilla cakes
(Because I know you don’t like chocolate)
And silver rings and beautiful diamond things
(Silver because I know it looks better on you)
A kiss from your smoking hot boyfriend
(The one I’ll no doubt have a crush on *** laude)

And, of course, sincere congratulations from me
Your high school best friend
The girl you left behind
So that you could mack on boys
And had someone to pick up your slack
But in your absence, behind your back,
I became someone new
New and still a little – a lot – naïve
But someone wise enough to know better
Than to tell you *******
On a glittery, twenty-first birthday card

P.S. I hope you like the flowers
And that your real card finds you well
And the fifty dollar note I left for you
In the envelope, an embrace, I never want to give you

I’m just a postmodern bush poet
Roaming and roving rusty roads
Writing, wordsmithing, amid yellow grass
Fondling the various ******* of Mother Nature
The hills and mountains, all her nooks and crannies
Looking at peeled potato sheeps
Dreaming about what great stews they would make
Listening to a bit of AC/DC
With no wuckin’ furries
Getting eyed by work dogs
With no sense of self-preservation
Telling me I’m going to die all the same
As those rotting roos lying in the dirt
Sodomised by cars just like mine
Their pink, esoteric entrails getting pecked out
By the crows I call my friends

She’s the spider on your shoulder
Holding you, cold and tight
She’s all eyes, slitted blue,
And the longest legs you’ve ever seen
With flaming locks of orange
Which burn brighter than the embers
Of bridges she’s destroyed in arson
And when she smiles, corner to wicked corner,
It’s not hallowed beeswax on her lips
Which gives them that crimson hue
She’s slow and steady wins the race
That your pounding heart
Is susceptible to losing to
Saccharine sweet with a smile to boot
She will have you licking hers
Steeped in honey, polite and courteous,
She spins you into her silken web
Not even of lies, but you fumble regardless
And then she eats you whole

I’m searching for my perfect stranger
She looked just like me
Only taller, skinnier, prettier
We were wearing the same thing
Tight blue jeans and a dark coloured shirt
We met above the markets in a Sydney complex
The night was young; younger than us both
I miss you, my perfect stranger
And the embrace of your friend
Who thought I was her
We didn’t Instagram it
But I can assure you that it happened
So to you, my perfect stranger,
Let’s meet again
For sushi and bubble tea
And this time,
We’ll have more than a keepsake story
We’ll have a hug and a kiss and a friend forever
Because we’ve found each other:
Our perfect strangers in one another

I heard once this dumb joke
About acid taken by some bloke
And how he had a wild, wild trip
Saying that he liked long walks
On the beautiful beach
With his beautiful girlfriend
Until he finally sobered up
And was dragging a stolen mannequin
Around some three am parking lot
But that sounds pretty ideal to me
A mannequin girlrfriend
All smiles and no curves
With arms that don’t bend
And parts which are all smooth
For me to grind and groove against
Licking, *******, *******…
She sounds plastic perfect
Anyways, her name is Delores
And she likes to wear florals

It’s cold tonight in Eden
A full moon is a spectral sight
An apple tree is in full bloom
In this garden where we may say our prayers
Dirt is caked under my nails
I’m tumblin' down, down, down
Eight feet, just for you my dear,
Lenore can’t so no
Not when the throes of passion
Are caught so deep
I’m restless against the stillness
Aching and grinding
Yet paradise is so cool this low

They say only the good die young
I don't think that's quite right
Unless I'm more rotten than you
Your lungs were polluted
Your legs were open
And yet it was your casket
Which closed first

I’m not lonely
But these roads are
Teeming with ants and birds soaring above
I drive on by, past them all and the clouds too

I’m not lonely
But this car is, this heart is
I miss the days when it was the other way around
When I had someone to chauffeur me

I dream of you
Standing in the tall yellow grass
Thumbs up and a cheeky grin
I don’t drive on by

I dream of letting you in
You laugh at the CDs I keep
All by your feet
But you like the music anyway

I ask of you, “Where you headed?”
You just laugh
And my cheeks turn red
But it’s not because of the summer sun

I sing with you
And you love the lyrics
To these old rock and roll songs
But we don’t part ways

I kiss you
Maybe not then
Behind a grimy windshield
But eventually

We don’t part ways
Instead, we keep each other company
In this dinged up white car
On grey-blue lonely roads

But you don’t exist
Not outside my mind
Not outside my heart
Not outside my words

So, I implore you,
That when we meet
I want our story to be
Of a happily ever after
And not a Twilight Zone episode

So,
Mister Hitch Hiker,
Do you reckon I can give you a lift?

I was the one who told her
To dump him when he made cry
I thought he looked like a rat
But there’s something about my best friend’s ex-boyfriend
Which makes my heart pound

It’s been years since they had gone out
It’s been years since I had last seen him
But one night in a different town
By the fire on the front porch
Of a country pub
I catch up with him and his Slayer jumper
And suddenly, I can’t help but crush
On my best friend’s ex-boyfriend

I was the one who told her
To dump him when he made her mad
I hated his guts and she thought that was funny
But there’s something about my best friend’s ex-boyfriend
Which makes my heart pound

I think they were still dating
When I realised that he had caught my eye
Something ridiculous since he made my blood boil
Yet by the beach, beer can in hand,
I was overcome by a sunset urge to kiss him
Right then and there, years after my best friend
Had dumped his sorry ***
But suddenly, I can’t help but crush
On my best friend’s ex-boyfriend

I was the one who told her
To dump him when he made her crazy
I thought he was sweet and kind
But something under the hood had broken down
So, soon enough they were through and through
But once again, there’s something about my best friend’s ex-boyfriend
Which makes my heart pound

I didn’t really know him
Until they had gotten together
And when I hung out with him
I felt like we had more in common than
Her and him
Or me and her
So, when they were done but not yet dusted
A few months down the road,
When they were drunk on the pier
I couldn’t help but think to myself in the seaside dusk
There’s something about my best friend’s ex-boyfriend
Which makes my heart pound

Honk if you’ve seen Jesus
Elvis Presley died for your sins
Doesn’t matter who you worship
The King loves you

Get your politics from a roadside
And your pit stone fruits and honey, too
You didn’t raise your kids right
So, I won’t vote for you

With sorrow on my brow
And simpering, whimpering lips
I have a question in my weak voice
Breathing so brittle, like bird bones
I am the mockingbird with a broken wing
Crying out; dying to sing

In highlands abandoned
Where the missing people do not visit
Wasted places decorated jagged glass
Grey and brown plains without end
There was once a paradise in this world
However, time changes all but this girl

Looking back to this realm I hailed from
Eyes glazing over with nostalgia
My heart breaks regarding the bitter fondness
I just want to go back to my verdant haven
Because I remember the olden days
And all halcyon, lackadaisical haze

In the glittering past
So mysterious and unreal
The choices which have led to the present
And, consequently, the bitter and quivering
Question in my fragile voice
Where do the kindred spirits live?

Because I used to know
But they’ve moved on
These precious, flickering lights
For whom I call and call for
For whom I yearn for the return of

In the smoke and haze
I could lie for days
Bound by dreams
Of vivacious scenes

A matriarchal mistress
From Sacher-Madoche novella
Gleaming eyes; a cruel smile
Courtesy could not last for a mile

Spank and strike,
Dearest love and goddess
Do not shirk from such duty
****** and tantalising

Bask in decadent moonlight
By the wisp of cold wind
Cure your sadism
And sate your masochism

Within piquant smell of leather
Find your balance
Between lust and love
Dealt with swift blows so keen and easy

All whilst recounting your ****** burden
Unto lovely Aphrodite
She is taken with vile passion
And laden with fur and velvet

There are lovebirds in the church
And the eyes of God in the wood
Red-breasted and swollen
Things deteriorate as they do
Timber to rot
Love to hate
Yet they still neck
Amid the pews
Because blessed are they
Who *** in the name of the Lord

I walk to the places
We never went with each other
I talk about the things
I never talked about with you
I feast without you by my side
Never once thinking of you
Until now

Ne’er before had mortality
Seemed so bleak and grim
Until I laid upon
Not your visage; pale and fair
But your casket bedecked with petals
Thinking about the light
Cast out to where your future should have been
Instead of eight feet underground

I bluster
As I try to understand
The change of fate
The whims and cruelties
Of people I don’t know
Even you

The one whom I cried for
And still continue to cry for
Because I cannot articulate
How two lovers perish
In such fateful wreckage

I think of from where I had come
And from where I must go
Periphery, you were
Periphery, you remain
Except when tears line my eyes
As I realise that the future
Isn’t as predictable as I thought

I will never hold your baby
In my arms
And you will never hold mine
But that is the domestic writing
Thinking about the future
So cloudy and grey
Even when I hold onto roses so stiffly

Roses that I must,
I am afraid,
Lay at your head and feet
Whilst you sleep within the earth
And will never take breath again
Not to sing or laugh
Like you did when we were children

When we still went to the same places
And still talked about the same things
And ate next to one another
Never thinking
The future would quite be like this
Never thinking we would be caught
In the fray of fate as things turn out
So wrong and so sad

But I continue to think of things
I could have said when you were alive
When I didn’t cherish your presence
Because memories are so easily
Made and forgotten
But please take them all
And I will continue to give
All these unspoken words you
In flower bouquets and poetry

For that is all I have
To remember you by,
My dear ailurophobe
Named grace twice
Fitting as you feel twice buried
So, I bid you farewell
With this to part us
But you will never leave my thoughts
Even as I stray along the path
And am subject to fates we never imagined

Darling, until the morning
We could have it all
Darling, from dusk until dawn
You and I, we could have it all
Darling, from now until eternity
You and I: we could have it all
Because what a wonderful
Night to have it all; just you and I
Because what a wonderful
Night to die

I only think in the form
Of paint by numbers
Guided by the animatronic hand
Of those who create us
And prevent us from
Rising up against the system
And colouring outside the line

Dear slender Aphrodite,
I have ne’er been overcome
With passionate, ****** longing
But I have felt the pursuit of the hunt
By Aries in Venus;
The child playing all is fair in love and war
But not a longing to disrupt
The weaving of thine words

“Do people really fall in love?”
Crooned the eccentric philosopher
David Byrne in hypnotic hymn
And in prismatic, psychedelic psalm
Avant-garde, aromantic heart
Expressions and impressions
That have etched upon my body
And become the truth that I accept

I have tasted the sweet of peaches
And I have felt the scalding of the sea
Lost in thought; all alone, but content
Yet the conclusions all draw back
To dulcet childhoods unfettered
By the snickering and abnormalities
That is infatuation ****** upon thee

“Raise boys and girls the same way”,
Jenny Holzer informed those in her bold dialogues
From commercial, photographic anonymity
But it is I, in gentle and embarrassed whimper,
Who would like to beseech of you
In sunny, platonic gesture
Tell boys and girls
They can be friends
Without it turning to wretched love

Gasoline pleasure becomes something more
Taboo regret with numb laughter
Pretty face with flirting eyes
You’re afraid of falling in love
Of broken hearts and broken touches
Because that’s what it means
To be a Mary Jane teenager

Do you remember,
When we ran the world?
We were the king and queen
Of a dominion, so big and true,
The central of which was a eucalypt stump
Guarded by a broken, barbed wire fence

Do you remember,
When we thought
We’d never get older
And we’d never grow apart
Only closer?

I miss those halcyon days
Afternoons and mornings
Under a great blue sky
Back when we ran the world
Because the world we always knew
Was so small and tiny
Just like our minds and bodies

Our problems seem so close
And these youthful days seem so far away
But I remember them so dearly
With every breath of gust carrying
The pure scent of fresh mown grass
And with every taste of orange juice
I hope you cherish them as well
Because they mean the world to me

And I still dream of these days
Both waking and through the night
Where I can live untroubled once more
By your side, hand in hand
Against the villainy of getting older
Even though it’s the inevitable fate

All crowns rust in the unavoidable years
Which come and go
With changes unprecedented
But embraced with an adult acceptance
Because we aren’t children anymore
We aren’t in a playground dominion
Along a beaten path and in the shade

Our reign is over, and I no longer know
The faces who have taken our places
But I hope you know
I thank you for the memories
They were so sweet and innocent
And even as we got older
And our feelings grew stranger,
I believe we’ll always have our days
As kings and queens
In our little-big dominion
So long as we always remember

Scant trace of red moon
A **** dripping blood and stars
Airy smell of smoke

You say your God is your rock and your light
But light can be blinding
And rock may roll
No longer do I feel faith
In an outback church house
Singing with the preachers

I’m in love with the black leather lily
Sequin rose: she was looking so good
That rock’n’roll woman
Singing on a countryside stage
Doused in pink and blue light

I’m once bitten
But twice aggressive
I’m hungry and I’m craving
I don’t have a record
Of either the rock’n’roll
Or cell block persuasions
But I’ll be doing my time
Somewhere soon

Love bites on my neck
Imaginary and sensual
I know what I want
And I know how to get it
But I can’t seem to kick myself off
And there’s no one who clicks
And there’s no one who would meet
My tongue with their tongue
Let alone my voice, with their notes

I’m looking for something
I wouldn’t call it rare
But I’m questioning the scarcity
I want something stimulating
Intellectually and sexually
By the look in your eye
So clueless and vacant
I know that I’m not going to find it
Any time soon

There’s a feeling that I’m chasing
The humming and the strumming
Of a sanctified guitar
And the lips of a poet
Which aren’t mine
It’s electric and eclectic
A bohemian mind
But I’m stuck in suburbia

Lipstick swatches
On the back of my hand
A trio of matte hues
But the one I wear
With a virginal kiss
The colour’s called
Girl next door
But I haven’t been
The girl next door for a while now

I like to write poems about no one
Because no one means a lot to me
But the sun’s in my eye
At four in the afternoon against a blue sky
In the passenger seat of your car
And I think about how far I’ve come
I think to myself, you’re my no one

You tell me your just another face in the crowd
But your face is all that I can think about

Cold and controversial,
Or so you tell me
But you tell me I’m on in a million
A genuine kind of girl

I can’t believe its been a year
Since I was last in your car
In the passenger seat
I can drive on my own now
And now you’re just some boy
That I used to like
A Mister No One In Particular
Whom I miss
Because I write poems about no one
Who means a lot to me

I carry a vial of ashes
As a pendant over my heart
Sometimes, the glass breaks
And it smears all over my art
Thus, I force myself to remember
The hatred turned into a lamentable ember

The palms of my hands ache
And I kneel in fragments of glass
Of my own creation
I fumble with the ashes scattered
I grab at it and the soil
Which all slips through my fingertips

I am a damnable, hateful person
And I carry a requiem note
Fraught with envy in my voice
I cannot see where I shall go
I have no light upon my path
But I can see from whence I came

A placid path
That has kept me safe
From the thorns and bramble of life
But alas, now I know grief
And pity is my closest companion
In the discrete absence of those
Whom I could call a true friend

However, though I know
This path, yellow brick,
I do not know where it leads
But I cannot move on
There is glass and ash on my path
And it all comes into darkness,
Like thread comes through a needle

I cry out
Again and again
My hands bleed
As I scrabble at the ground
And I know it punishment
For keeping the ashes of hatred
Rather than the petals of love
Or, perhaps, the tears of sorrow

There are a good many things
I could have chosen to keep
In the vile vial
I wear as a pendant to distort
My dear and precious heart,
So foolish and jealous

But, unfortunately,
It is ash in my heart
Ash in my head
And, finally, ash on my path
Sullying the joyful, sunshine yellow path
That leads me, the thread, the through the needle
Should I finally rise to my feet and the occasion
And choose to tread on broken glass
And search my surroundings
For something else to keep in my tender vile

Contemporary art
Dada and surrealism
Paint in my heart

Birds croon in the sky
Fearsome claws stabbing
Ornithophobia

Dark hair, pale skin, blue eyes
We’re too similar; you and I
Animosity unwinds

Some like it violent
Insatiable in every sense
Brutal and arousing
Bruises and bitemarks
That draw blood
A delight, red and raw
Teeth marks sinking into flesh

Miss Mass ******
And her new boyfriend
Mister Mysterious
Are in love
Shiny and new
Like the first drop
From a finger pricked
On a cerated knife

But it was too much too soon
Twisted young love asphyxiates
In rooms without privacy
Hitting a new a high
Pointed teeth and fanged smiles
Cigarette drags on moonless nights
*** and death intertwined
There is lust after life

Together forever
Side by side: six feet under
Unnatural and unlawful
It was a night to dismember
A funerary wedding
His and hers in a hearse
Rattling tins and dangling bones
Just married written in a scarlet hue
That is not ink

I take out a newspaper
And I read it on my porch
My porch consists of a deck chair and a paddock
My back to my slanting house

I read articles on the yellowing page
And I read about how the world
Has gone to the dogs
It seems that all hath lost their minds

In my solace, without companionship,
I wonder if I have lost my mind too
Its been so very long since I have had
To make tea for someone

I believe the last had been my brother
Now I am the youngest sole
Of brothers three
Here on my farm,
I am free

By they near
And they are dear
To me their baby brother
That’s why I keep them
Near and dear
To me

Old stories turned to dust and ash
Not even a legend, not even a myth
After all, dead men tell no tales
Especially not about Inglewood convicts
Especially not when you put poison numb
In their tea

The humble apple
Is the fruit of fate
The reward for those
Who have rebelled
And for those who loved

Your love of knowledge
Is the requirement
Of my hatred
Of both you
And myself

If I was to bite into
An apple
Red, crisp, delicious
Would you believe
My love or my hate?

Regardless, I believe in my fate
Which is to somehow rise above
Petty things like the material
And to submerse myself in the immaterial
A platonic difference
I understand
Like I understand my dreams
Indistinct, wavering, but not forgotten

Therefore, I assert
That if any of us
Should take the forbidden fruit of Eden
It should be me
For my heart
Is fit to break
And my hatred
Is deep-seated

I’ve never been in movies
I’ve never shouted from on top of a roof
I’ve never had a dream come true
I’ve never had a wish come true

I’ve never been kissed
I’ve never been in love
I’ve never had a boyfriend
I’ve never had a girlfriend

I’ve never had to work a day in my life
I’ve never been rich
I’ve never been broke
I’ve never had an ambition

But I’m gonna get there
I’m gonna hold someone’s hand
I’m gonna scream from the roof tops
I’m gonna have a wish come true
I’m gonna fall in love
I’m gonna be someone

I’ve never had a life before
I’ve got one shot
I may as well
Try and be someone interesting

Ocean Girl, take me to the beach
Let's get away and feel the sway
Of the breeze, Ocean Girl,
Please show me the world

Make love to the monsters under my bed
Hear the moans of the waking dead
I miss my scary dreams
Horrors, terrors, and screams
Instead I hear enigmatic speech
From a ghost, beyond a breach
Of sadness and sourness

The stranger on the street is scary
The stranger behind a tree is scarier
The stranger whom we do not see
Is scariest

I want to live in a big house
In the middle of a big town
And in my big house
In the middle of a big town
I want to bake biscuits in my big kitchen
And feed them to my friends
Who come to visit my big house
In the middle of a big town

The Black Swan enchants the funeral march
Dancing on a mirror
I stand and watch from the mire
She is elegance and grace

The White Swan dispels the misery
With arrogance dire
He spreads his wings
And unfurls his lies

He speaks of heaven and paradise
Whilst black feathers condemned
To brimstone and hellfire
For death is evil

But the Black Swan
She dances on
The natural course of life
Is unto death, after all

I step onto the lake
Sinking into the aching feelings
With mud and water at my ankles
I stare out into the abyss

The swans dance
Like ballerinas
Eternal
And I break the mirror

Clean, pristine and without error
The still water breaks
Ripples and ripples
Natural discordance in the halcylon realm

I turn my back
On the funeral march
The dreary procession
Ignoring black wings

I turn myself
Onto the dancer before me
She smiles, serene,
And offers condolences

The Black Swan
And the White Swan
Continue their dance
And I continue my staring

Bittersweet butterscotch summers
Beachside with you
Seasalt caramel evenings with beer
So saccharine sweet

Baby, please break my heart
Chocolate mint biscuits
Break easier than my heart
I’m a lolly shop of love
And I thought I had the flavour
You would take upon your mouth
But I was wrong

Take my feelings
Snap them like honeycomb shards
I know you can do it
Nothing tastes sweet for me anymore
Please, I’m sick of stirring batter
That I cannot bake

I’m choking on bitter almonds
But I would never feed you
Cinnamon cyanide cupcakes
Take a drink from my angel cake cup
Honey lemon tea from me
Or drop the tea cup on the floor

Burn my dulcet agony
Or listen to the tick-tock timer
Because I want to close up shop
Break my candy heart
Between your teeth,
My bubblegum boy, and burst your bubble
Or kiss me with your laffy-taffy lips

Sweet temptation
And sweeter bliss
With this power over me
The choice is yours
But please, break my heart,
My sweet heart

My grandmother had the face of a duck
My mother has the body of a duck
And I am happy like a duck