Insignificantly as possible, (he)
slept and
slipped out of bed,
lazy and a
small frown
rippling everywhere.
Tension behind the eyes, pupils hugging together,
concentrate, no, you
definitely aren't cut out for consciousness,
and for that matter, the truth.
Little statements wearing
acid
slips ( you know, nightgowns?)
trivialize and you're getting good mileage
fleeing your purpose -
you stupid
boy.
This is not a fairy tale,
just a particularly gruesome infatuation.
Pick up the egg shells
and figure out
which direction the sky is in.
Pathetic.
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