a maelstrom, a whirling dervish, a mannequin on stilts in the rain

a nonexistent knot, gordian, cut in twain like a child in a biblical tale

if i brighten whiten dye and pluck will someone see me for me or will i just fall into the pack of lemurs unaware of where we run but knowing i must continue on and on and on until my designer jeans and new kicks are scuffed, sweat stains marking the 300 dollar shirt trendy

i resent the cognizant the peasant the unpleasant miscreant marking the descent of the decent and holy transient pheasant

expectations and assumptions are like landmines that we all scatter with no thoughts and expect strangers to tap dance through

it is even worse when we apply the same to friends

i tell myself it is okay to be ugly because you have great personality and then we both chuckle and cut carbs because fuck those things

except bread

i am an indiscriminately full range vegan that prefers his tofu bloody and with a delicate bacon crust and virgin seal blood truffles on a bed of kale drizzled with butter and deep fried

i could kill a thirty pack of penguin eyes in moose bearanaise, saturated in trans gendered fats so as to not alienate the nutritional malcontent

a roux, to rue the day, low heat, teflon coated like the lies so casually swept under the rug, door to door merkin salesman, one size fits all

this is why we are disgusting we misuse the things in our head misappropriated from webster and the lonely gentlepeople at oxford

these things mean things this describes me describing it clear as fucking day in shining vivid 4K with a slight curve to the left sponsored by super absorbent tampons for pets

feminine hijinks aisles over flowing with flowery alliteration to the aggravation of monthly maintenance

we raise the roof so the accumulating mistruths and misremembered past indecisions don’t overwhelm, over throw and over weigh us as we crash into icebergs of our own design

i’m the king of the world of missing letters and misspelled regurgitants, packaged in plain brown paper so the neighbors don’t know i’m secretly a sex toy with long lasting batteries and short shelf life expectancy

use me and leave me spent in the dumpster you found me in

spinning spinning out of her control and feebly flying on featherless wings, an ostrich paratrooper, head buried the drifting sands of the hourglass

it’s that feeling of losing control and the wheel jerks out of your hand and you see that truck and you know you are fucked but for a second there is relief and you wonder where the fuck that came from and you see your kids and you want to scream and then it is over and you limp away to hide in a church parking lot and try not to shake

but with pizzazz, a little razmatazz, and a flourish of the wand before the smoke bomb conceals heavy steps, exit stage left

but my left and your left and stage already left and none of it feels right

right or wrong who gives a damn anyway, these sympathetic apathetic urges lead to the same dead end at the edge of despair

so we wallow together, the miserly love company as long as they bring enough to share