I could braid the hair on your back,
And you still wouldn’t sit straight
You must have been born in the water,
You avert traffic , gruffy as a doormat and always less welcoming.
You are sick of my sandwiches, desserts
I am a cave with echoes, a metro noisy with crowds
You honor repose, I pass by pretending I can’t hear
Your conscious begging for change.
Is there still no place?
You were afraid for your skin,
Must be expensive, wherever its been
You may be a giraffe with the better view,
A man or a woman, a lighthouse, a pole
You claim to have things under control
But your nails know different,
There is no still place.
In the stories, you are clever
But the pictures don’t correspond,
Preaching Sobriety to the toads in the pond,
They croak at your nonsense, your reflection,
Lion of Oz, why bother sharpening your claws,
Pop-culture jargon, empty elevator,
Sassy Attitude, Cheap Diva Imitator
Still there is no place
Continue living as you are,
While I build fences with the toads.
oh my god…….!!!! i do not understand the “whole” thing, but i still love it….seriously…!!