"Take your fish oils."
Despite them and the yellow particles I breathed in,
I lived in sin.
Guilt smugly unwound its coils;
It had become an expert in multitasking.

Mom said there was a dead thing in the wall.
She smelled the stench of absence
Of something of unknown presence.
It was worth more then than when it could crawl.
I was envious.

Colliding with water stains,
Marching toward linoleum horizons,
I wished to escape to the dank mausoleum
To keep watch on all the sane.   
I met him in the cool silence.

I cannot believe the cornflower girl
Came to be enthralled by this shade.
The bone-evil he possessed was wickedly satisfying.
Pthalo enticed me when his velvet shelter did unfurl.
He blindly held me close.

In the back of the hearse,
They held a political debate.
Opinions soaked reverence like gasoline.
The only thing that allowed me to continue to rehearse
Are postcards from Oregon.  The trees matched my Pthalo.
             
I searched for a flashlight without sanction.
Speaking my words and begging for a hand,
One was placed over my mouth and it tasted like sand.
"You just want attention."
Crying in Pthalo's embrace, I heard him say
Don't worry, they won't miss you.