Oh it’s lovely up here
All my work
It’s in the melodies
And my frights
In tight boxes
With postage paid up
It’s so daunting
The squawking under my bed
The loose gross follicles on your head
Oh it’s nervous out there
Threads pulled
when they spit
in your mouth
And my cries
Met my spine
Curved and repelled
It’s so punk
The tweaking urns on my mantle
The mistaken trance and a cup full
Oh it’s quaint, respondent
Laces snagged
Picking at
and whistling to
proud antiques
With dark tongues
It’s so phonetic    
I could just
Go blind in shame,
With the big one
That nests on my town