Explosions
All the pretty little
Colorful pieces
I've ever espoused
Pink bows burning
All the little plastics
Melting off
Sticking to
My fingertips
I can hear you
Driving by
I can hear everything
Every word
That you are saying
You inadequate idiot
I'm now
Equipped for this
To rub you out
And swing you
All around the room
Dancing, prancing
Catching tunes
Moods of maybe marvels
Egg shells crackle
Under our feet
Bleeding tears
And shiny tires
Where all
I think about
All I dream about
Is forgetting
Who I am