I say,
Put the knife back in the drawer.
I say,
They will throw nice things out
eventually.
I say,
When they do that,
you will have everything.
Lately,
I have been wondreing
what would happen if I
stop looking through
the trash?
Maybe someone else could
redecorrate their living room.
Maybe I could get a living room,
then sit and write bad poetry.
Put the knife back in the drawer.
My arm hurts in the places where
I did not cut it.
I did not cut it.