The world has jumped from east to west
My fingers can no longer reach out of my window and touch trees
They reach out to grasp the air
up thirteen miles high in the sky

I sit in my white tower alone
"She will be better because she is here." the people below say.
"It is better..." my sage said.

Show me why.

The dashboard is melting into a thick slurp of plastic
Clicking of keys.
Turning of page.
My frustration has edged my voice, dark and as raw as obsideon.
this splitting headache from my frustration with procrastination
has cut me down, cut me open
again
and
again
and
again.
Every time, I say I'm done.
I am putting it off until tomorrow, until never,
and until it is no longer useful.
It is haunting and I am corrupted by my own misdeeds.
My lazy impulse has morphed into a useless ghost of promises to myself.

I made you a crown of dried chicken feet,
it goes with your snake eyes,
like how dice stare back, irisless.

I bet fifty clams on Steady As She Goes,
I dug them up in Maine for chowder.
Well, my Friday dinner just walked away.

I put your hand in the waffle iron and closed it shut.
That's for trying to make a better pancake, good suggestion,
pretentious Belgian *******.
Next time I'll just stub my cigarette out your sweet Sunday brunch,
you'll eat the ashes out of the little cubes that are so fluffy and crisp.

Cleaning up a broken pillow after a pillowfight,
that's rough stuff.
**** feathers, it's a cotton from now on.
Let's practice making out.
Gross, I don't like girls, I was kidding. Get the ******* me.

They snuck syrup and chemicals into all your drinks,
but don't worry, I removed it.
You spit it out and say GROSS WHAT IS THIS THIS HAS GONE BAD
fine. keep ******* down on those chemicals cancer kid.

I stack my wishes next to the dishes,
the ***** ones that need to get done.
I leave the tangible next to my tangerines
and the apathetic with my apples.

When I was little girl,
I prayed and prayed that I would never have feelings,
so I'd never be hurt

When I was less of a little girl,
I stopped praying because I stopped "God"

When I was yesterday, and a couple of days before that,
I thought how much I wish I could have feelings

I know nothing is a feeling, but I'd like to have a little less of it, if you'd please?
My plate is rather full of exciting things
that seem droll now,
just because a little girl was afraid of getting her heart ripped up

What...gross cowardice...tsk...tsk...

Every want of ours is a need,
an everyman's need is unnecessary,
it is already fulfilled with a snap.
slip, slap, snap, just easy like that.

You are the funniest person I know. I am too.
We are the weirdest creatures,
so when we do normal things with normal people,
why, it's hilarious.
An ironic mockery of the everyman everyday.

Instead of being angry or rising against the system,
we play it like a fiddle,
and laugh at everyone and thing while we sit
smoking fat cigars and counting our money
before we dump it into our art and clothes
or set it on fire.

It's just so funny,
because we aren't like that
and we know it.
The world is our plaything and we just
laugh and
laugh and
laugh and laugh.
everything is just so manicially funny...

IF you get me a phone made of gold
I MIGHT call, finally.

But I can't listen to such pretty words
out of a chunk of plastic and glass.
...you're better than that...

Here's the plan:
This Wednesday,
meet me.
Someplace you like;
you always know the right place.

Slip a quarter in the lock,
it tricks into/with a key
The money pays and paves the way
to purchase what I need.

The sky is stuffed with the cleanest clouds you'll ever see
Carpet tacks and cut up glass launch into your knees
Sink to the ground as crumpled as a paper plane,
discard your feelings before you ever feel again.

The chips on your shoulder, off the block,
have filled up all your pockets.
The feeling you had when you stepped through the door,
well now, you've lost it.

Enter the exits, watch, you're on your way
Never to regain what you felt in any way
Touch your body
Touch yourself
You've been touched, it's okay.

After entering this exit, remember what you know:
every wall is a door, it depends on where you go.