Every night I go to the dentist,

He's left the light on,

For me and the moths,

This kind of consideration is rare,

Like a happy medium,

Maybe it's exclusive to spiritual types,

Then again, maybe not.


It always strikes me how insane we are,

In our hopeful repetition,

We call it perserverance,

Like when a dog marks it's territory,

Is an accident,

Thinking that without the veneer,

We could see how ugly the house is.


This is what you get,

When you drink paint thinner,

Besides, of course, thin paint,

You don't need thick skin,

If you're already numb,

The latter is easier to come by,

But harder to sell.


The storm after the storm ►


No comments posted yet.

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message