Stare into the mirror and rub my eyes in disbelief
Until they fall in sweet liquid relief
In this selfish little home
Where I can finally be alone
To wear my soul
On the soles of my shoes.
In this bread crumb city
Electric ant hill
We watch the Atlantic fold in on itself
While the Pacific waits with bated breath
To hear of our skeletons mental health
Two lives connected by dead telephone wires
Our lies forgotten in witty satire
While your cryptic quotes ooze charmingly
Like the butterfly mutters to the bee;
"Don't come crying back to me, when there are no more flowers left to see"
No comments:
Post a Comment