I ruminate on
my failed affairs
I really am a mess of state
but a well maintained disaster
With clothes crisp
and shoes of leather
a Prada bag slouched
shedding Glitter as a scavenger’s trail

seven billion people
yet I manage
to ram together puzzle pieces
with mismatched contours
and hope for it to work

seven billion people
yet I manage
to fear a faithless future, aghast abandonment
carving my present,
a relentless sculptor

seven billion people
yet I manage
to severe portions of my entity
my soul, my being
and gift them
waiting on exalted reception
only for smirks and Smirnoff

So here I am
the mess of state
On the 14th day of the 2nd month
Trying to figure this out yet again
Yet again