exploding clown fish with wings
keep saying slowly
you don’t remember nothing
that’s because
you’ve never been
dusted, spread out
and flustered
maybe you need
to chill, hold back
on those reins
‘cause you’re driving
fast and the tinting’s
getting darker
I can’t even see
the shadow of us
traveling, faster – now
it’s like dyed feathers
with whispering deco
taking up your
gaudy rack
seeping, your sinking
in, into my seat
but baby, where am I?
lost in gazelle movement
I can only see limbs
but baby, where am I?
I keep on
singing your praises
is it a wonder
that my internal
would surrender
a reflection?
leash me to it
so I can have
the excuse
to fill in this mode
with narcissistic torments
you know baby,
the kind I like
so much
‘cause I find it
so easy
and enjoyable
to get lost
inside these
folded layers
that occupy
the mind that played
my unofficial player
into screwing herself
out of the safe
and into the world
of self-accepted change
and universal growth
my baby is a fool
for unpracticed moves
and uncategorized words
the kind that come
only as abstract thought
requiring more
in-touch to
mold the first letter