#mollusk
Garbage, filth,
the literal ****
stain on your
perfect, porcelain abode.
Wash me away with all of
the heat that
you can muster. The
burn is vital.
I flourish
on the notion that
I'm needed.
An inadequate being,
I'm bound to this misery;
living in
a hollowed shell like
the mollusk.
Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 12:10 AM UTC
Today I feel like a snail
who took forty years
to cross a road to find
that the other side was
the same. And you don't
want to deal with the rage
of a tired snail.
It is sad to find yours is
such an unglamorous totem.
Tomorrow I will feel
like an old philosopher.
I might even go as far
as to offer advise
(tiresome and languid),
and will talk about my
great and epic drift
through the great gray dessert.
And you will say,
here's a wise man,
without knowing that
everything was a mistake.
That it still is.
I warn you, I can change
expressions, seamlessly.
Remember this, cats can't
smile, they can laugh or
destroy it's world,
with the furious sorrow
and as slowly
as a tired mollusk.
And they will try.
Oct 11, 2017
Oct 11, 2017 at 10:43 AM UTC