Jul 10, 2019
jazz hands
the swarming sound of flies/ a morning buzz/ I saw a flag/ sewn from hatred/ the smell of sunshine/ with a hint of bubble gum/ fifty-one fifty/ neurotic erotic/ an axe is being sharpened/ yet there are no trees to cut/ the humid midday wind/ carries the smell/ of the city dump/ to my nose/ expired milk & rotting produce/ nearly a butterfly concussion/ memory is a sweet succubus/ just wanted to be the rainbow/ after the storm/ I've never felt comfortable/ with this human form