wire feathers aren't enough.Flutter and flap. Flutter and flap.Flutter (bump) clap. Flutter (bump) clap.It's cold on Sunday mornings, like falling dominoes and putrefying hyenas.She can tell it's going poorly already.Snip-snap, ka-boom. Snip-snap, ka-boom.Tumbling like a buckled goat down the mountainJagged and icy, it's sweet… like death.Pish-tosh! No worse than fungus and mould.Overpopulated and swaying – how weak your patchwork seems to be.Don't query my fire; it chimes like war drumsEchoing in the valley of lilies and unsewn dollsWith subdued lips and unsighted eyes.What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?Unsubstantiated fetish; one lump or two?Squeal like a pig and maybe get your cookieOr maybe I'll leave you abandoned in a factory – whatever the pen wants, it gets.It isn't my idea, I swear.Plip-drip-droop. Plip-drip-droop.Her words are melting away; her muse has taken over.I'm so sorry, we've lost her.You can see it in her aura – tainted by the world of her
GrecianPopcornandCanadianGeeseShe watches as the actors dance across the stage, like ink from a pen,Transferred to the agonizingly empty pages of her notebook.Pressed up against cotton-flower lockers, spray painted a cheery golden-morning yellow,Amalgamating with the thick, cobweb-grey dewdrop curtains of fog:Together these things spell disaster.She can't quell her suspicion, any more than her wandering mind.Painted toes tap, moled feet and bowed shoes click up and down in unison.Bubblegum pops and a youth sneezes, and somewhere a faerie has fallen down dead.No more pitter-patter flit-flick! pitter-patter flit-flick!...The cosmos is dying.Chewed up, spit out, drying and cracked in the sun; no superior than the mud that composes it.Can Switzerland remain neutral much longer? Standing idly by while their mothers die.Swallowed up whole by the greed of the universe, not unlike our fabled Atlantis.No more blue suede shoes, baby; don't forget to breathe.Turn pink with anticipation, purple with preparation,
Disasters and Mardi GrasIt's all happening so fast –Like teacups and bears, like monkeys and strawberries –Too fast.Scrambled; like eggs, or brains, or television transmissions.She feels so inadequateSo young, and childish, and naïve, and scared. Pulses escalate: the beeping on the monitor is so rapid.Call her chicken Bawk-bawk here, bawk-bawk there…She just can't change the way she is. Here a bawk, there a bawk…Is she better or worse when she is alone? A. L. O. N. E (i. e. i. o. Everywhere a bawk-bawk!)She did nothing wrong, yet there is guilt.It's building up within her chest – struggling againstThe affection she's stored there. Overwhelmed, or underwhelmed?
petroleum jelly and lemonadeI sometimes wish thatScars, made in sadness,Faded…When encountering times of happiness. Lost (lust) Lives (loves)So long, guilt.Hello, consciousness.Being in love really suits you…Like a deck of cards;Aces high. Euphoria? Paranoia. Euphoria? Paranoia!