Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Glass Candy Glass

breaking candy glass 
head in hands 
can't hardly stand the
breakdown immanent 
candle handle by which 
to rip the arm
from the socket wrenched 
from a horrible dream
hands shatter 
the pieces into shards
make you break 
down your illusions
like a cheap display kit made 
obsolete by the movement 
of the 21st century
guitars still bark and yelp for help
down from the tree branch fence tops
crop-tops and muscle shirts galore
for Walmart wannabe whores
boned like whales in aisle 7b,
(escargot is just salted and garlic-buttered snails)
melted juices dripping down your chin
music, waxed paper over plastic comb
hum along a simple song 
you thought you remembered 
from your hodge-podge
canister of childhood grab bags 
snatched at by years of other people, 
fears and things,
tears and lifetimes past
like grass mowed over
move it on over
love won't mean a thing

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