Ω

Ω

you fancy yourself a sidewalk daisy,

you compare yourself to the grass,

you’re a pen on the ground, alive with ink—

but deadened by your past

in the teeth marks

and the broken clip.

this seen together

(a mosaic of recycled glass) and

forgetting your spectacles

(Heineken green integrated with)

curling your first finger

(Red Stripe brown embraced by)

and peering through the pin hole

(Budweiser blue)

it’s a starry night over the Rhone.

Running together like water

(or wolves)

But

apart from the well-written résumés,

a child of

Cain…

seeking a salve for the pangs of loneliness and you’re noticeable different,

caused you to raid the mead hall,

or society,

your ill-suited cocktail manner,

shuffling around the room,

trying to make the toothpick cheese cubes last…

Who will stay to

stoke the fire keeping

night away while

you sleep and

dream of

day?

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