Simper and wince with slitted eyes and sarcasm dripping, making a pool on the ground in its drenched wetness. Lullaby daisies spring up and jump, coming to life in Alice in Wonderland-type fashion, full face and smiling, singing. Colorful stopgap in Marmalade toast, the edge between the crust and orange jelly. The ensuing crunch and tartness. Magical mystery new haven, arabesque imposter’s syndrome. Wilting greens steamed and tossed and blanched. Sour sarcasm. Painful menace to it’s recipient. Later down by burrows filled with alabaster pasttime. Marble mistletoe in the museum 3000 years in the future, as they try to paint the picture of our simple human lives and figure out how we worked. Ticking clock. This time as a social construct. I cannot turn my brain off, can only present to you what is. And it is surely always changing as humidity ebbs and flows and writes its markings on the wall, keeping track of how tall we’ve grown. Lace.

Author: Roe

she/her. Songwriter & Trek Punk Soul™.

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