When water develops a taste
And loose hair starts to strangulate,
You become a question that no one posed
And sanding off the “bad” edges of your brain is how it goes,
"Cars are in the air now", are these really my words?
But for mine I am a connoisseur while for them I, closed eyes, carry flowers.
You'll see me reaching for an itch in my soul that I can’t quite scratch
Like trying to draw pointless triangles and rearranging shards of glass,
Ink-less pages gnaw at me, “Have you run out of thoughts?”, I think.
"Let the sweet ease in your mouth”, I hear as I bite and finish it off in one blink.
These days of clenched jaws and stomachs with pits
It’s like herding cats to become one’s paperweight.
They say I’m an open book so I ask what the pages say
and all I get is how I grew up in just a few days.
White mug bears the age-old tea-stains while guns in my head march
‘I’m well thank you', because everything seems perfect from afar.