plastic

a couple more days (to the tune of plastic birds)

poetry

i shouldn’t expect you to be like me
my pretty plastic bird
and when i took you to the fare
you said that life’s not fair

when i go home at night
and i think about it
i know i only want the truth
and that’s all i want from you

and when i realize
looking into your eyes
that they are plastic beads
i wish that you could see

i guess that i’m a mess
and i get left like that
cuz you can’t tell
i wish you’d go to hell

i lose my appetite
i’d rather be lonely
cuz it’s not fucking cool
being such a fool.

pining for the 424

poetry

swimming in a man-made lake
on my plastic factory break
“oh god!” i say feeling like a snake
after i intake the toxic rape
of the buildings cutting in
to the sky’s real estate

oh the m t p streets covered
in feces and empty seeds
all signs hiding an awful
deceit, promising weight
behind the word compete
feeding an off-tempo beat
to the hungry and weak

but the whistle blows and
i suppose i should put on
my clothes and be composed
for my home groans for the
oil and bones and keeping it
fed is part of a human being’s
growth (or a human being a ghost).