Don't Ask

One black,

one white,

one soft.

What does it fucking mean

to have no time for anything?

It's sort of like when I was younger...

Make them kiss,

make them social blunder and curse.

They're just plastic.

The shoes are most enjoyable

to put in your mouth and chew on.

Independence and choice

are not things

typically branded on my ass

or otherwise.

He's faraway.

He's there in super seconds.

Speed of light and headaches

made from love and not flight.

Flight from this fucking dirt box.

How do plants sit still for so long?

I pretend I'm a succulent six days out of the week.

I shouldn't be asking anything

in my faux philosophical voice.

A voice I pretend still sounds like my grandpa's.