the Smokey sun
fades, leaving the cloudy sky with streaks of weak light
that barely illuminate the dim gardens
as this misshapen boy stumbles around
awkwardly placing the soil
about the clocks
packed tightly
in tiny littlie flower pots
that seem to fall and long for attention
though each one is so neatly placed into the framework
yelling through the wall
desperate for water.
with a brown tint over the world
with industrial smoke
and an ant infested girl
whom at this exact moment
is gawking at the black and white rainbows
that seem to start and end in the perfect places
so you can never see where they complete their lives
of pure beauty
as they hang over the smoggy town
with bricks of people
who’s mouths are stapled
onto the wisdom that’s been passed onto them.
a tattered dull fabric of glamour
draped delicately over
whatever you want this thing to be
just sits there, living in simplicity.
little tiny bears stuffed in the foyer
accompany the gargantuan cakes that linger in the
stomachs of the ever hungry.
because this sinister affair
never says never.
 
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