Alone
Maybe I could be an ice sculpture someday.
Maybe I am today.
It’s like I’m filled with ice cream cones in my mind.
But no ice cream that can bind.
I’m as scattered as a rusted piece of floss.
I think my necklace melted and is a loss.
Which is impossible for something that should be metal…
But I think this reality has become too full.
Bizarre types of flowers popping up everywhere.
One that looks like drool you shouldn't share.
Recipes that are detailed but scream out loudly.
As everything in that commercial has been set free.
The pizza guy is at the door.
That’s the person I should implore.
But when I reached the door an hour later.
There was the pizza box I can concur.
I think he thought I lived as an ice sculpture.
Although I can’t say for sure.
My mind is like a pizza-burnt tongue.
Or a scattered lung.
That’s what it's like to live alone.
But still, they said I could never atone.
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