it started
as a pic
nic for
two
we ate
sunshine
and absorbed
more then enough
food to fill four
swooning
couples
well
at least
for me being
the swooner and
she playing the part
of the swoony who
in an act of anger
makes a scene
and leaves
leaving me
to make the toast
of tea that she will be
always with me using the
almost foreign forever word
in the ending soliloquy
as i gather the four
corners of our
plaid empty
blanket world
tie it to the end
of a stick walking
while whistling now
a silhouette into
a lonely hobo's
sunset
Our synaesthesia is for free,
Music is the muse for me,
It's in my blood, you see,
Images imaginary,
Elvira Madigan wakes to see,
Mozart play Mozart lucidly.
Swooner songs sound so silly,
Old rockers croon so vividly,
Funny lyrics in my brain,
Sounding a little deranged,
(It is hereditary
in my family)
Yes, Synaesthesia is for free,
Smurfette's songs, so silly.
Stubbing my toeses and whiskers on women
Stepping on nettles and by a swarm of bees bitten
Bounded like hostages tied up with strings
These are a few of my suckiest things
White collared phonies and bills piled in oodles
Bad smells and poop felled from schnauzers and poodles
Old geezers who cry when the old swooner sings
These are a few of my suckiest things
News from the presses with more stock value slashes
Cornflakes that grow soggy when in the milk splashes
Little wood splinters that felt like a sting
These are a few of my suckiest things
When the moon lights
When the glee sings
When I’m feeling glad
I stumble upon one of my suckiest things
And everything turns bad
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