butter

I am butter on your toast.

I’ll take a look at the gold light shining through the windows
and turn over to feel a bruise on my hip, it is large but the cause is my biggest mystery.
It’s soft out there, after a huge explosion that ripped through
all the little toys left in yards. I saw a chair at the top of a tree, no one was in it.
It was sweet, the leaves danced into a messy head of grass and it was somber.

I reached out to touch what I couldn’t grab,


the forlorn
and dead

bake me into a cake so I can suffocate

Reviews

[SkinlessFrank]

yep, each morning i awake from the dead and think why not just stay there

[fireblossom]

I like it. This type of writing makes my head happy. Thank you for letting yourself imagine.

[atom]

you always write so beautifully, and just like so many of your poems, this creates so many poignant images in my mind. You paint with your words.

[Steven]

For some reason I've always enjoyed writing that amalgamates people and food... Lol, no idea why. It reminds me of a little silly rhyme I wrote a long time ago:

i need a drug
they don't make
i'll turn chocolate
and fit in a cake
you may not notice
me in your teeth
but in your gut
i'll kick and scream

Yours is obviously better. This was like one melancholy vignette blurring into another. The realization that comes in the dry morning of the previous night's recklessness. Nice write.

[Trigorin]

This is really very nice. Great use of imagery and I really like the tone in this piece, very two-edged and double-sided. I think some of your longer lines could have been broken up more gracefully, but that's a minor issue. Very well done.