I can’t breathe….
the weight is too great and my fate waits
plated…
I need only choose it as it sits so near
I can touch it
crutched ******* munch my lunch
my growing hunch bunches
and I get a headache –
the macabre steps out
rotten curtains hang limp around eyes
coated with think and smeared mascara,
earlobes gauged and a professional gapper,
lifts its 6 fingered hand
reaching for the peaches –
cheap fruit on the veranda molds
plastic bowls hold cracked eggs
and her legs stretch to the moon
swooning, I come unglued and swallowing ludes
like a Bill Cosby date I wait again
for my fate to begin –
peeling paint and fainting actresses
plaster masked maniacs along muddy hallways
shinning pennies give the illusion of care
but rarely is flare so debonair
the holey underwear share in my despair
we were unprepared –