so, okay. we're a little behind in some of our chores.
like, taking our garbage to the dump. it's kinda sitting in our garage, breeding fruit flies.
hey, somebody has got to take care of those poor little guys.
anyway. the garbage. say, perhaps, we loaned our christmas tree to vbs and then didn't put it back away. say, perhaps, a little teensy tiny bit of garbage got put on *top* of this ficticious christmas tree. and then the garbage were, to say, leak a bit? and leave the stench of death upon this hapless fake christmas tree?
it's now the christmas tree of death.
i tried spraying the silly thing with lysol, but now the thing smells like lysol and death. not a good combo.
okay. this calls for a poem about something else, entirely.
with your forever promise broken
in my grasp like so much wind
blowing away my dream of what
we once were, i try to remember why. i see
a tangle of loss as a heavy rhythm, breaking
my small still trust. your cruel mouth carries
lies, shards of truth cutting so deep, drawing
a line of scars through my past like
a tank through enemy territory. if you'd kept
your sweet self from me, i wouldn't hate
this absolute solitude. your hair
drifts like seaweed, around
your face, along your false body.
silence holds me under thin consequence,
growing fuller every day, every hour.