Gather around, Misery.
Let’s play murder.
To start, we want them young.
Let’s relieve you of your burden.
That parasite. Eats you to death.
Let’s watch them grow into thin.
Twirl, ballerina, twirl.
Fall as Ophelia fell.
Let’s dance off the edge of the skyline.
The news said you shone. Brilliant.
Down to the murk of a pond.
Fallen star. So superstar.
While children starve in Africa.
You wasted into water.
Draped in lily pads and fronds.
Let’s raise it up. Into a four-limbed figure.
Wears a mask. Duck walks on cat walks.
Preens until the feathers fall off
In the four walls of pillow privacy.
Baby blankets.
Let’s only come in blue or pink.
Then grow. Slowly, incubated tulips.
In the plesant song of neighbourhood.
In the macaroni song of family.
In the twerk song of friends.
In the lifestyle magazine only read while at toilette.
Let’s drop our pants. Vulnerable humans.
Leak out desire to please.
The dog bone will never grow old.
Even when it resembles the rotted corpse
Grandmother died in, a year ago.
Let’s end this two by two.
Instead, make a Bonnie, a Clyde and a Me.
Twirl imagine. A twirled tune of
Machetes and mistakes.
Blurted words and bumbles on curbs.
Four walls never fit even a floor.
Humans have ten fingers and ten toes.
How could four walls fit those pieces alone?
Plus the brains, the guts, the teeth and lungs.
The heart, the limbs, the ears and tongue.
Before long the walls will drip blood.
If you want to talk. Find me finger painting
In the next room.
