Sunday, August 02, 2015


Laying down
Listening to the thunder
Thinking of you covering me with umbrella kisses

Standing up
Hanging onto your every whim and Whac-A-Mole diversionary tactic
Discerning just how real you are amid all the Mr. Fantasy politicking

We begin as milkshakes and if we’re lucky end up as root beer floats
I am jobless, nearly homeless and when it comes to self-preservation haven’t a clue how to keep myself from ending up living in a van down by the river
I desire to stick my circus straw in your funhouse of mirrors and rodeo mystique

I will never forgive Skittles for replacing lime with green apple
Skittles was never my go to candy and yet still on occasion I enjoy them and find myself missing lime like I miss consistency over profit margin
I will never forgive God for sacrificing his only son

Charles Cicirella

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