Mud

Tue, 11/10/2015 - 18:07 -- newbleu

How does that work

Well there’s a rule

No more than two mentally ill per room

So I go in

I take off my pants

I realize my socks are two different colors

 

They scream around the corner

“I’m upset!”

“Well, I’m upset too!”

Well I’ve run out of juice

 

Check your deadlines

I must be sitting on something

And nothing follows logically

Linearly, Significantly, Aesthetically

We are made of mud

 

Do you like hamburgers?

Do you

Do you like America?

It’s after nine

Everything’s in my bag

I have someplace to go

 

Smells like dog medicine and Ketchup

Cancer will do that

Jewelry was a good idea

We’ll barter for the peasant lives

 

But Linearly, Significantly, Aesthetically, Artistically?

There could be some blood

But most of it

The majority

Is made of mud

 

Do I hear some desperation?

Barefeet will be just fine

Leave your madness after the tone

They should get to you in time

 

If there's voices in the phone-

Rip it out of the wall

Don't talk to those guys

They make you sick

 

Save some souls

Pretend you're asleep

Leave no trace behind

Maybe-

 

You will be fine

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My country
Our world

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