The drunk flies zipped around
My sunken forehead,
Darting back and forth,
Jolly, yet still annoying.
I admired the unusual patterns that the
Inscets seem to effortlessly travel.
When the police are not looking,
I secretly spit on old
Pictures of deceased family members.
Separate insane thoughts of vivid
Inncoent images
Splatter themslevs onto the fronts
Of my seemless eyelids.
A melodious sharp squeal halted me in
My tracks.
I got agitated, just like when forty
Coked up circus midgets tossed
Firecrackers and gregariously played
Hopsotch through the narrow
Hallways winding through my dense head,
Last Memorial Day,
When I visited
Atlantic City and the blonde girl with the
Sunflowers giggled when I stole her a
Snickers bar.
Coastal flooding makes me laugh.
Too many stomach aches makes me cry.
And if you spell the word,
C-A-N-K-E-R S-O-R-E,
I would shit gleefully in my faded jeans.
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