I feel like a cartoon boy
Lungs filled with rat poison
Enough to drown cognizance
Middle finger sprouted proudly
Aimed directly at the Earth’s orbit
I hope the peasants see it well
As they contort in conflagration
That erupts from my tear ducts
Every time the sun dares to shine
I imagine my face on every one
And what we look like inside
Splattered across the walls
No comments:
Post a Comment