Why am I doing this?
Earthquakes disrupt the perfect square
that holds together myself.
Balanced on thin paintings of mountains
whose oils are too harsh to be reality.
Balanced through Venus whoses September
blood causes the revolution of my arm.
Starts with my arm though
anger strong as curry carries my reactions to the bathroom
where I wash away my mistakes.
Caring too much.
white chocolate doesn’t do the trick
nor the sounds of cello nor of bells.
Just HIT ME BABY ONE MORE TIME
HIT ME with evil games, a bad sense of humor
never nailed anyone upon the cross.
Getting Lost with fakeness,
with Loony Tunes
with the death of a loved one.
South America comes alive as the skyscrapers of your tease
move like homes of clown fish.
inverted.
i break the china bowl on my bathroom floor.
ANGER.
swallows my head replacing the phrases of black eyed peas.
just leave…
the mountains are too cloudy anyway,
i can’t find the forest house.
lost.
until one day I will find the warmth of mittens
no more will the black eyed susans smile maliciously
as I force the salty smell of you deeper within my lungs,
coating the coarseness of the walls with a layer of acknowledged mistakes.
