I’ve traded in all self respect for
clacking teeth fingertips and a
poor, hopeful, investment.

The problem wasn’t in the execution,
but the planning, or
was it the kill switcher?

The dimmer switch was stuck
for months and when the Summer
sweat finally jiggled it loose,
we were reminded how nice
a little normalcy can be, so it
couldn’t be that.

The dream was too selfish
suggesting patience, and her volume
too stout to let it go.

The brutish demands of these
all day danglers are dragging
me down like a Bergeron bracelet.

My lord what’s it gonna take to
undig the truth? the essence
of our questions should have
had you shut us up by now
anyhow, but I guess that’s just what
the ole’ distracting whore is for
in the first place.

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