The dwelling place
Simply dark and uncomfortable
Yet shamefully well fed
And thoroughly misunderstood
Exactly like the inside of your
Mind way back when
Little chatterboxes with pink ribbons
Like iridescent peageons
Scattered around pecking at some
Laughable nonsense and you too
Perched next to them
Holding your breath
Tight enough to resist the gravity
Lifting yourself up by the
Corners of your mouth
Chirping along whateversomething it is
Insignificance of it.                              
Sprinkling the glitter
Over the gaping hole
As a matter of I don’t know why.
Not much food for the thought
Just a feeling of suffocation.
Wash it down wih despair
Down into the innermost
Of that empty drain
Now THAT feels like home
Suffering for the lack of misery
Or some
Miserable luck
That was named a fortune
Without a smile