ODDLY A MOPE POEM

little tiny coffee cups and saucers with candles in them smelling like chocolate. you are a tennis ball under my mattress. keeping me awake with the swirling black polaroids that have filled my dusty hovel. i wrap you up in an old, stained tea towel and put you in a banana box.

i threw many alphabets away. all code and indistinguishable babble. i sprayed all the shelves with orange juice and licked up the dirty discharge of memory. smells like dirt and fake stuff.

sitting here, a funnel in one ear, a cup to the other. filtering dissonance through my brains to make a cool shake for breakfast. something to sit with in the morning and contemplate over a pile of numbers and notes. some sweet thing grimacing and moaning 'frown on me... property's all gone...'

and a trick. i bought a queen of hearts and wound up losing every game. it was only worth a two dollar note, but i held it in my hand and wished it would burn away the polyester fraying at the edges of my weary afternoon.

sniff. sneeze. yawn. tap tap tap. i wonder how many moons til i'm back again. this gain scratches my back and sets my traps straight in place again. no sorrow. just syrup of the past to pour on my toast and honey from some lavender bees to tip in my tea.