Plans

You plan you’re entire day out, and you can’t move an inch
And its starting to hurt and I’m feeling the pinch.
There’s a grind, just starting, beneath my eyes –
And I’m not sure if its you, or me, I despise.

Look at me effectively – talk to me in colours –
Forget what I mean when I speak of the others.

Who are you, exceptionally?
Because I think there is something about you,
I have been waiting for.
I think you are my brother and my husband and my sister
And my whore.
I mean, I think
We are
One of a kind.
And you’re holding up my mind – with all that shit,
Absurd
As it is
You’re giving me the word
And to me, it’s like this.
It’s bliss.

Sometimes I think you are the cookie
And I am the crumble
Because when you start with those essays,
I start with this mumble.

Come on, come inside here, so I can eat from your ear, I mean, suck it all out of you.
What we have been through.
I think you are disgusting but aren’t we hurting?
And isn’t this reincarnation shit a burden?
And aren’t we just regurgitating?
When we catch ourselves discriminating?

You made me a cookie, shaped like a heart.
I have kept it all this time on my shelf in a jar.
There is no mould yet, and when I open the lid
I can smell who you are …
Just a sweet little kid.

Plans

ashleighsynnott

Joined December 2008

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