Wanted to tell you a story.
Wanted to tell you what it was all about.
Wrote you a picture.
Drew you a song.
Forget the reason.
Understood the work.
Undersold the trivia.
Marked the wrong box.
Fell into a big pile of crackling bubble wrap
called it safe
called it family til the last bubble popped.
worked into a froth
poured over cyanide
wrathed into a knot
taught to be forgot.
I never thought it was going to come down to this.
Something like splitting a bill over a vaccuum tube to terminate.
I'd tell you all about it.
But I hope it isn't true.
Strange men
strange darts
strange smells
like a hair change, or an orange into jasmine
you just know
you just know
and I could tell you all about it.
but there's a deep portion that I fake
like smiling sycophants in bad suits shaking hands and fidgeting in an uncomfortable chair
they're behind oak
you're sitting on cardboard
hardly makes a damn
we all make food.
at the end.
For one or another, or a god damn colony.
Nothing out, nothing in.
Self contained system of birth and death.
Self contained
only my share is spilling from my hands
like amber juice on red checkerboard table cloths
and clattering plastic forks.
Unreciprocated.
Undrank.
Just a spill
just a stain
just a sticky spot between the pages.