Pour whiskey into the tub of ice cream
pour whiskey into milo dead sea
pour whiskey into everything
a bed of you and me
We
are so out of touch with reality;
Midnight curfews and bowls swooshing with earl grey tea
This,
is equally avant-garde and anarchy your apparel
fits me to a T,
Fed your whispers to the bumblebees.
Promises bloomed
appropriately
Like a dandelion waking to the embrace of
spring;
I know we have secularized
Badly
You are in search of something,
Lost in my face-
a burning map in those ancient dialects you once
dreamt.
You thought they tasted little
like cream.
I forgive your closet of limited vocabulary,
myself more caught in the engineering
Or what it was supposed to be.
You really have to know,
Everytime you speak
I want to get a lobotomy.
You
spelt my name
Wrongly
Twenty-secondth time
It hung
like a forgotten anniversary.


I’m pathetic at poetry I’m sad at rhymes,

*Goodbye, literally.