I'm a sick bitch, a piece of shit, too broken to keep.
I'm a failed mind healing at the wrong time, unsure and on my knees.
I'm an old joke, a burnt smoke, a song that doesn't rhyme.
I'm a broken clock, a clay-filled lock, an all-out waste of time.
I'm grated cheese, I'm mucus; sleaze, I'm a flaw in the design.
I'm a wasted day, I'm hell to pay when words ask me if I'm fine.
I'm a ferris wheel rolling downhill into a crowd of cotton blaze.
I'm a rusted nail in the junkmail that cuts you like a blade.
I'm the elastic mind, the strangest find, the cruelest kid in line.
I'm bitterness, I'm forgetfulness, I'm homeward bound, but blind.
I'm over-whelmed and under-held, I'm the headache you thought you lost.
I'm a broken cloud, I'm shutting down, I'm clarity at a cost.
I'm a shrinking frown, a weed that's brown, I'm a cheapened cross to dress.
I'm a fucking bloke in women's clothes, an androgynous soul- a mess.
I'm a purple goon in a contorted room, I'm shining crusted shoes.
I'm a tone-deaf ear, a break once here, I'm the rainbow to your bruise.
I'm bitterness, I'm listlessness, I'm hopes that failed once found.
I'm an ugly crone sent to die alone, and rise once in the ground.
I'm bitterness, I'm laziness, I'm invisible as sound.
I'm happiness when reading this sparks your pretty frown.
I'm sleepiness when the sun begins and wakes the broken truth.
I'm the emptiness that avoids the rest, yet somehow fills the room.
I'm butterflies, I'm the sunshine, I'm a breakfast finally served.
I'm bitterness, I need a rest that I did nothing to deserve.
I'm licorice planted in the dirt, but prospering like a seed.
I'm a child who, in my ignorance, planted a licorice tree.
I'm cause for concern, I'm justice unlearned, I'm a stew in the pot getting cold.
I'm every tock on the mickey-mouse clock, I'm the yellowed crunched page getting old.
I'm stuck in the haze of past happy days through healthier plays of the mind.
I'm finishing quilts that I started on stilts but managed to shrink and revive.
I'm bitterness, I'm loneliness, I'm a hypocrite at her best.
I'm missing things that should redeem all this restlessness.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
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1 comment:
dyah... depressing kinda D:
you're the extra crunch to my peanut butter!!!!!
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