I think I put forth my best foot
And in the ***** puddles of agitation
I walked forth
Sputtering specks of dirt all over my jeans spotless canvas

I think I moved past the winds hollow tunnel of ghastly wailing
I let it bat at my ears
Relentlessly
Until it tired out
Not me
Until it tired out

The purple plums frigid and somber
A scribble amongst gingerly brushed pastels
Of the sky’s fluffy puffery
Pompous
I’m judging you
I’m sickened by the color that’s in these liquor store roses
Liquor store flushed face
Rosy
Scarlet
Torn
And worn
God and
alive
maybe
Something like a bulb in a broom closet
In some uncanny basement
Creaky stairs
Creepy stares
Of an entity that’s ever-present behind your lame back
Curvature stuck, eel spine, ocean swine
Smells’ that burn your nostrils’ hairs
I feel those miscreants on the bus
No our eyes won’t meet
They peeled when we reached the infamous fork on the road
The fork we all faced and I didn’t see yours in the tree trunk’s circles
Liquor store arms
Like waves in your buoyant hair
Chipped tooth
Stranger than what you initially thought
Appendages that once moved with your spaghetti string body
You were the only one left
Flinging with no shame all over the dewy grass that now separates us

I’ll destroy everything that’s bright
So that maybe the grey that’s now your face will shine again on  
The canvas of a world now dingy and feeble
Undeserving of the light it took