Cookie Cutter Day
On a whim,
a demon will grab a fist full of mind.
Slap it down- roll it out- sprinkle it with lye.
Then pull out its cookie cutter heart.
press down hard...real hard...
Feed pieces of sanity to its hoard.
Half devoured they crap you out.
Into the shadow of an indigo night.
Clear the eyes
of the craggy miles.
Slug down a cup of fog:
What is that sharp pain-that dull sound.
Just beyond the cobbled soul...
Something just isn't right.
Stroke the cat
sweep the floor
croak "good mornings"
shower
wash away that crazy gray:
snakes are in the showerhead...again.
Go for a long walk.
pick some daisies.
sometimes that helps ...
but not today.
Hissing is in the swaying veins of the leaves,
the locust eat throat deep into peace...
Stagger toward home into a hearth of talking bones.
Read the daily dread.
Stroke the cat again.
take another nap.
Pray for a warm breeze dream to move the bloom of life.
Back into its golden vase to temper the pendulum.
Sweep the suckling demons from the chest...
Where the hell is my rolling pin god in all this ffin mess?
Copyright © Anthony Biaanco | Year Posted 2013
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