Sleep-deprived, medicated zombies
steal quarters from the Goonie’s wishing well.
Weeping willows, dead flowers on pillows,
the living leave morbid poems on Speak N’ Spells.
Saturday night turned to Monday morning,
the glinting glitter on my cheek softly fell.
Devils and Angels have a hard time keeping up with me.
(Sing it) I climbed the mountain top
(See it) I found my bottle cap
(Fleeing) I ran past the mouse trap
(Dreaming) I befriended my heart’s cop
All that mouthwash won’t rinse away the words you said
that night you cried ‘I wish I were someone else instead’.
I listened at your door with a stethoscope to the wall,
with my hands fully extended in case you chose to fall.
I placed them together and made the shape of a prayer
while fantasizing my fingers running through your hair.
I’m nothing but your humble servant, fervent and meek.
Your softly batted eyelid, mysterious like a pyramid, I seek.
Given the awaited moment, I seized it with daring aplomb,
and all the finesse and tender gentleness of a nuclear bomb
“Who told you it was okay to rhyme?!” A voice inside my own shouts.
“Who else can embarrass me like myself?” I replied.
I went to an art show at a comic book shop.
I ate Thai Food in East Hollywood.
I performed little miracles while tapping my foot.
I brushed my teeth and took my medicine.
There’s a door to a room that is always going to be locked,
and no one knows where I hid the key.
Don’t bother me.
I’m growing a beard of bees.