A little boy pulls
A little girl's hair
Because an oyster turns to pearl
The sand which annoys it

One day
When my hair is graying, face is creasing
My husband will be at work
His apathy slowly increasing
And making him a rude ****.
My kids will be at school being fed empty knowledge
Preparing for college
And the TV set will be blaring
I won't be caring
About the static noise filling the beige room,
The news guy speaking of terror and gloom
A blue glare will reflect on the brown stained couch
On which I will be sitting, with a woebegone and wistful slouch
And my brain will drift, slowly searching memory files
Going back for years and endless miles
**rest of poem redirected

Your greatest fear
Is* to push the daisies
Mine
Is to sleep with the fishes

.

The death plant comes creeping in the door crack
Slithering and wrapping around all that is near
It clings and adheres to everything close
I keep cutting it but it keeps coming back
I keep snipping the leaves, black at the tips
Turning upwards like sinister lips
And trimming the edges but it just
keeps
coming
back

Her lips are painted
Cheeks are tainted
Cherry red
Cloaked in leopard, high heels clacking
The men whistle,
Whisper to each other, mira, mira
She's alluring on the streets

At night she comes home
To her fish and fake Mondrian
In between blue sheets
She sleeps alone

Lovely on the streets when the sun is shining bright
Lonely in her bed in the middle of the night