Tuesday

I stare through an open, wide window
Breezy
Five feet away, in a frail wooden chair
Winged creatures sing to the morning clouds
I see my favorite garden of flowers
In a short distance. The sun rubs my face
Hands politely resting in my lap. No cig.
I smile at sweet passing thoughts
And, remember a dark and homely stranger
She told me I was beautiful
Records playing in the background
Oh, Nina Simone
I think I’m feeling good

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Wicked

I created streams of pinot down your eggshell wall
Forgot the buns in the toaster, waiting for your call
I eat ice-cream in your bed because it gets me sticky n’messy
This headache screams you strayed again. Fuck’r wants to test me.

Stretched out. Entangled in your “day after” vanilla sheets
Plowing fists into the headboard provides no relief
I insanely burst at how playing the fool can sting
I howl at a cheating moon that no longer sings

As I scribble this lyric across your back wall mural
A line so insanely wicked, you will stumble upon as a bit serial
I’ll stab my i’s and slit my t’s
Bludgeon the “F“, and drag the tail on the “y” until it bleeds

Puffin smoke.  Such a sexy bloke.
These lips now spit fire. I hope you choke.
Soul shaking through. Hoping you’ll return soon.
I’ve got some thing bloody wicked

…something wicked for you….

 

Wicked