I am a mash-up of mishaps, strange facts and movie quotes.
A cacophony of cool dancing tin hats,
and concerned-looking men,
watching in white lab coats.
I am the hungry seagull searching for salmon,
dodging waves and annoyingly landing on ferry boats.
Dropping gifts to the sunbathers by the shore,
they never seem to appreciate.
Until they do, I will just drop more.
I am the spinning cactus made of rock.
I am the wealthy, rich millionaire
who sleeps in cheap hotels
and wears odd socks.
You are the last bit of toothpaste
you squeeze out of the tube
before throwing it away.
I haven't brushed my teeth all week.
What more can I say?
I am the broken toy tossed under the bed.
I am the breaking glass, the slamming door,
the words misquoted, misused,
and more than often misread.
I am the one who bites off
more than they can chew.
I am the one who tries and
tries and
tries
to
forget you,
but can never quite seem to.
I am the one who stays up late
sometimes,
to ponder, wonder,
and write these confused, riddled rhymes.
Today is Sunday,
and yet it's already tomorrow.
In my mind, there is no time:
But there is sorrow,
and bursts of joy
and glimpses of hope
and snippets of happiness
and times where I cope,
but most of the time?
Nope.
But today is alright.
One of two poems I randomly wrote today in the car