have you read the book of lies such a comfort to know how acceptable we are like well placed silverware as long as i keep moon shadow in a cellar box shut tight where little cocka demons play unuttered you can't hear them rustling about but i shake little bats and owls from my socks
am i lookin congenial today just a teensy icky inside bubbles in the belly clinched toes in crowded shoes eek hope i'm not dead and don't know it
my graciousness plastered on like white sheep over a goat to get what i need of course to make friends and influence sorry about my ti ti ticks the way my fi fi fingers fi fi fidget
my towels are folded and in place vanilla cup cakes with sprinkles all in a row like little ballerinas prancing as plutonic volcanoes heat like spires pandemonium
my life a white glove inspection all pressed and starched like a mythic poem written by a ****** stiff with holiness as saints float over my head yet the world for all my good a thunderous black light
a poem about the struggle between who we are and our face to he world