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ticking is a solemn arrest, a faded white wall,
and a pattern of blank stares, all ripe for a bold
occupation, affixed to space-taking suggestions
that lie upon linoleum in small paper snippets.

i heard the hoot of an owl by the window, maybe
it was something to do with the mismatched feather
dusters hanging side by side, or perhaps the noise
i was making with the scissors.

it then spoke to me in a broken beaked English—

let me help you burn that bland confetti,
we can slip off to a place where fast boats
await careless operators,

i have so many reckless gifts of debauchery  
packed for delivery to those "Whooo" wish
to entertain the sharps of my talons—

Share with me, your most
Malignified Thoughts !

— my head split wide open and snatched down this
creature with one swipe of a dry tongue, the taste
of it was that of winter leaves and —probably— the
discarded cigarette butts from a public walkway,

it itched a little on it's way down,
concluding otherwise yet another
unremarkable event...


"boredom eats foul"
© 2020 by Seranaea Jones
all rights reserved