bathrooms have lightbulbs in them


says the faucet 

to warn my mouth to keep quiet-

'cause currently a spaceship has entered the atmosphere of my brain

and there have been reports of rain. 

Pink rain clouds against Sunset sky 

so high, indeed, so high. 

imaginary reach to take a piece of Pink-

"it's cotton candy?" i think. 

the rain has gone, so has the ship;

the faucet simply says, 

drip drip drip... 


my eyes hurt- i stared

at the artificial suns

by my accident.

one, two, three, four suns. 

a fifth in my head,

it warms my big boggy brain to expand it like bread

and bear fruit to a sixth little sun. 


Yellow teeth are bared- 

oh, what funny little ones.

they smell like fake mint. 

one, two, three, four sharp ones. 

if they ate flesh they'd be Red,

and they would be boring and Black if they tore into lead

so they're all Yellow but one. 


Yellow like the suns above my head,

Yellow like the imaginary one inside. 


the faucet says again. 

This poem is about: 


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