It's so relieving
To know that you're leaving
As soon as you get paid
It's so relaxing
To hear that you're asking
Wherever you get your way
It's so soothing
To know that you'll sue me
This is starting to sound the same...
~*~
You were smoking bones
As if they were cigarettes
Miss the tale called home
Affiliated with a sickness
That ate through cuckolds
Made fools out of cocottes
Making poker dealers fold
And hat in hands to fought
Where were you when she
Died last night? Asking for
Extra straws from the sea
To suck up its open floors
.
Ambitious was your hobby
Buying fortune from clowns
Earning leprechaun money
Wearing a replicated frown
With apparels of gold velvet
Canes of candy in platinum
Fevers of e.coli and scarlet
Eye contacts tinted iridium
Where were you when she
Died last night? A roosting,
O'er open fireplaces calmly
Whilst she was screaming
.
For help, with blood flumes
Cascading down her nicest
Sunday church dress, lunes
Devouring into their behests
Waiting for your latest calls
When broken windowpanes
And her tears started to fall
Pilferers feast, no shame in
It; where were you when she
Died last night? In bed, with
A hired trophy wife, unguilty
Living a millionaire's dream
.
Now you're a failing destitute
Case, has-been in showbiz on
Industry, hailed dropout brute
With a buck to his appellation
Living in a cardboard box flat
Selling signatures no one will
Take off your hands, you're but
An extra in life's silent film reel
So, just where were you when she
Died last night? Wishing that you're
Dead, junkie OD'd, madness addicting
Suffer as she sits in Heaven laughing.
~*~
She'll come back as fire
To burn all the liars
And leave a blanket of ash on the ground
I miss the comfort in being sad...
YOU ARE READING
Oneirology
Poetry♦♦♦ Oneirology: the study of dreams. Dreary reality intertwined with nuances of dreamy phantasm; for when my quill is spitting iridescent rainbow mirages instead of murky ink puddles. ♦♦♦
