Artificial smoke signals and silent warnings;
not even a proper hello
before the impending sarcophagi
berate themselves in an attic
made of twilight and despairing acacia.
Have I made myself a burden?
I may not be worth the trouble, if,
no, when, I eat a box of macaroni,
on the floor, so sullen.
Why do I seem to live dead
on the floor of existence lately?
While you brunch with Gestapo
where I cannot find you.
Damn, woman you are brilliant. Eating a box of macaroni on the floor.
brilliant…pathetic…tomato, tomahto.
Brilliantly pathetic/pathetically brilliant?
Both work.
However, of all the adjectives I would use for you, pathetic is at the bottom of the list.
Shrinks I could hear the crunch from the eaten macaroni all the way to my house…like it. Here is one that came up yesterday at the camel saloon.
http://thecamelsaloon.blogspot.com/2013/04/an-apology.html
Bye
One more poem that I liked!
I love how thought provoking your poems are. Thank you, and keep it up!
I hope you washed down that macaroni with some nice Merlot.. Its Friday here already and nearly beer o’clock 😀
Oh, the Merlot is happening as we speak!
Woot, cheers 😀
cheers!