Silliness
This was written between 93 and 97
i beamed
like a whipped dog
from my place
far beneath the couch
way back in the darkness
where the wall
meets the skirt
where the shadows
meet the dust
i pointed a blameless finger
at the subtle accusations
and became
an integral part
of the silliness
out of my depth,
in the shallow end
my mouth filled
with a cloying mixture
of chlorine, urine and pride
my part; an inept toying fixture
huddled and muddled
fucked up inside
sing a song of seasonal silliness
hum a tune of bloated excess
whistle a ditty
about life
in a city
where no one
gives a fuck
About the Creator
Bren
“I know what I mean it to be and respect that someone else may read something entirely different.” Me
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