Tuesday, July 27, 2010

rags to riches

this singsong this, about
"everlasting love",
a cinderella pretty
cleaning the dishes
and dishing about
forever, and ever;
infinity, you say?
what a lifetime
that is to
just wash away
this armor i cleaned
so bright,
just for you;
maybe it didn't fit
so right.
maybe the color
was dull and
didn't match your curtains.
oh, cinderella,
i guess that's it,
the slipper is
done for, it
didn't fit...
and back you are,
among pumpkins,
(which will someday
be used for pies, but
ssshhh, don't let on)
singing a song
i've heard before,
so many times,
i guess i don't
like it, anymore.
so clean until
the beads of sweat
taste salty, in your
mouth. cause
then, at least, you'll
know your fairy tale
(or, part of it)
came true.
which, personally, i
think is the
bluest of blue.



  1. every poem that comes out of that creative little noggin' of your's should be put in a big book that sells in stores worldwide for a very large amount of money so as to make the author fuckin' OPRAH rich!

    forgive my run-on sentence.


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