the paper boat is soggy, and sickly with the drench of H20
outside ---
the world is foggy, and no one knows how low the clouds can go
smoke arising from your pick..fingers numb from thumb to thumb
absently wasting away on pixie sticks,
an extra pack of your sugar cane lick
digesting the wind, and all the places it has been
squirming in the side of your clothes, knowing all to well
what everyone already knows
behind in the world, missing on a passing swirl
down the delightfully refreshing creek;
youre an honest lier, sick and sleek
youre addicted,
how you love those lies that sang you lullabys --
but now its old and soaked, a drenched paper boat
how lactic this acid is, so unable to float
© 2008, Angie Romans. All rights reserved.
No republication of this material, in any form or medium, is permitted without express permission of the author.
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