don't be afraid to drop me
because i will break.
if it's better for you to do it
do it.
if your arms grow too tired
to hold up a palette
and your ears come clean off, and mine
because my words seem so insincere
if i've become a deadweight.
pretty please drop me
with cherries on top
and sunshine sugar sweats dripping into flowerpots.
when the yellow paint wrestles with the
surface of your tongue.
don't be afraid to drop me.

how by chewing wildflowers
til your tongue turns numb because
you're enamoured by the way it sounds
when you slur your words.
your gums turn black and
when you smile all i see is
pips and petals stuck between your teeth.
oh you're so pretty.
you're a real loose cannon, tendrils
tethered to every orifice and
every breath smells a little more
like the grim reaper is sleeping
in your mouth. i can see he's
making quick work of your gums.
but it works.
better that than he move into your chest
or burrow any further
in your head.

roses are red but
romance is dead, so what use
is counting petals?

nostalgia is a disease.
i wallow in rose tinted puddles
waiting for my body to evaporate
into the wistful cumulus clouds
where i can look down on my life from serene heights
and like what i see
i'm punch drunk in the gutter, wrinkled
still bathed in gasoline and bleach
i'm not happy now, i wasn't happy then. nothing has changed
what's happened since to make me think everything was better when i was young?
i've caught a disease living in this filth.

whether they come in waves
or they come in cascades,
let your emotions wash over you
or you'll float through life only seeing what's on the surface
i breathe in the feeling of inadequacy
because it's fresh and it's crisp
and it's the most bittersweet taste to grace my lips
when all i breathe out is stale air.

my head hits mahogany while i wait
but when my screen radiates light
and the beams bounce off
all of my off white walls
you illuminate my world