I don't know what to call this
My pillow told me all about you.
You saw your reflection in November’s new moon.
Was it fear of the old or a fracturing mold
that left you borrowed and blue?
Tell yourself that every cat on the freeway
is a raccoon, to give your mind some leeway.
20/20 vision could use just a smidgen
of a rosy Bubonic hue.
Peaking at your time capsule,
security check, regularity parcel.
It’s too late to cancel it, Gretel.
Running with scissors doused in benzoyl alcohol
We’ll be sterilized by the time loyalty falls.
Raspberry throes and bittersweet thoughts
Our surgary woes attract bearclawed wasps.
Ultra violets and regret-me-nots,
vagrant loose teeth adorn this vacant storage lot.
IOU the rest of this