a sunday show.

no you cannot see my fingers
they’re far too honest for my means
the cold unpretty that lingers
will start bleeding out of their seams

metaphors and synonyms
pull them through the pattern
pen and pen and pen again
patterns patterns patterns

mystery (does not mean depth),
a failed connect in perception
funny how i scribble this mess?
craving connection connection connection.

bellies full of words
they come to dinner as poetry
the regurgitated dessert, absurd
arranged to say a “woe is me”

join me in my cheaply lit show
o the things i make you drink
all dolled up with a quirky bow
im painted up in fake and pink.

you should really see my fingers
they’re pretty, though they’re borrowed
yes you should really see my fingers
but not until  tomorrow

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