This steel cased pen is dying out
with no one left to wield it,
and all these glasses are so distracting
always viewed the world through window panes.
Today my pillow smells like the past
slipping down the walls.
The ryhmes don't match, but who really cares?
The perfect word is scrawled in
Don't you know that plastic lines these fingertips?
I swear it's hard to dance like this.
No comments:
Post a Comment