Perfection -Part Two-
Her doubled chin jiggling,
Obnoxious, squeaky laughter. . .
I smile to make them feel good,
When I am bored in the recesses of my pulsating,
Consecrated, selfish noggin,
Crawling into their lives like wanted vermin,
LIKE IT’S PERFECTLY NORMAL TO BE THE COCKROACH. . .
Dispersing awkward, filthy wings to fly in the house of procrastination,
His butt squeezing as he lies on the floor around them . . .
I want to squeeze my way out of here and never look back. . .
The pillow beside us is there for thought,
Suffocation in that feathered mess. . .
I’m not violent like her. . .
The eyes are crazed,
Caked with eyeliner and crummy eye shadow—perfection in their eyes. . .
No. Unattainable. . .
Heart breakable. . .
Delving into rant after rant,
The seas of my being crash among the rocks of my peers,
Fleshy hands grabbing me from the dark crevices,
Where I once welcomed the crabs. . .
Oozing butter dripping from her mouth—
A disgusting paradise in a disgusting situation,
Avalanching the heavy distress all around me. . .
Do I WANT perfection?
I never really did question this. . .
Because their perfection is over-branded—
It has been long expired in my thoughts. . .
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2012
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