It’s become more of a habit
Interval time from interacting with humans
Irony overlaps boredom and passion
Kiss away sadness. Verbally vie away the synapses
Blood-stained flesh from a rose
Thorn on a flower.
Cry self-preservation to keep presence remote
Listen in on private conversations.
Fly on the wall
I carry disdain like I tattooed pride on my arm
In light of today, might as well just be dark
People fill rooms with nice decorations
My empty spaces are filled in with looming distractions.
Better me, than you. Interaction
Pencil me in for the 2 o’clock in the noon
I’ll probably be late for that, too.
Terrariums.
Rattlesnake vein photosynthetic approach
Poached eggs for breakfast right on my porch
Tap the cigarette on the wood, ash lay on my flowers I wonder how the fuck they still Grow
But they do