Posted in Poetry, prose, quotes

bullshit and bile


In everyone’s “I’m not going to be phony, phoniness… ”

Ah, I just need to gripe to someone.

I can feel the volcanic ash rising. I’ve been burnt… smoldering for years. I need to release the trash compiled… hidden in recesses and crevices and tunnels.

Cut the crap! Get to the point! I leaf through the Sears Catalog, make my Christmas list, and it includes all I missed, being an adult. How did i miss childhood? While being my brother’s mother, my mother smothered me with her tears. I drowned in her fears.

Will i find my happiness in a bankrupt business? Maybe i can get in on that gig? Or rather i should roam the empty streets where dollar bills are strapped to soul-less shoes?

Is an egret an egret
or of another name
first determine nesting habits
and scope out long cafeteria lines
hungry is, as was,
we find
nothing ever satisfies…

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