The cannablistic comportment of stars
Likes their food
Hot
Both in toothsome touch and taste.
Gravity holds his tongue
As the last noodle is sucked dry.
Cue the brown dwarf.
I am
Syrup smog of black tar underneath the fifteen car pileup you
So carefully caused
Suffocating you
With a reminding force of why we stop at red lights.
Laugh.
It's the only way you'll get past that six digit figure.
You enjoy the commemoration which I enjoy
Of wine
Of whine
And of wane.
I am
Nicked magnifying glass
Slow churning weapon of choice for your countless ant massacres.
They pass the gasoline torch that is their arm.
Recall
Igniting the revolution that is their colonial independence.
I am
The earache your mother's affectionate astral vocal chords can never absolve.
Leaving your ear canal with the strangled burn no q-tip can itch.
You are
The crack in my waffle cone letting the dreams of my mudslide delight drip away
And you've misplaced me in the Black Rock Desert.
I am
Desolate dog that has found his one pound of joy for the day.
You are
Delectable rat that has given me rabies.
A life for a life is suitable.
You
Are the snore that continues to rock the coffin of my composure while
I
Am the vexatious burn that hugs your now flaccid neck
As we swing to the tune of end's song.
you're unreal.
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