Wednesday, December 28, 2016

Break It Wide Open #2

In my dreams we’re both naked.
Stuffed animals without a guilty conscience.
Paddington Bear is who I’ve always related to.
Is there any stuffed animal that helps make things less unpleasant for you?

I wanted to call you up. It was raining. Led Zeppelin III on repeat.
Tired of my asshole itching no matter how good I believe I’ve wiped.
Tired of the orange asshole tweeting about winning because some people are never happy no matter how much smoke is blown up their Three Little Pigs chimney.
I wanted to calm you down, but knew that would only piss you off more and arguing with you only breaks my fragmented heart into even smaller chunks of romantic goo.

In my dreams I’m playing you like a Hammond B-3 Organ or was it a harmonica?
My memory is so bad sometimes I remember myself being taller and less irascible.
Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the day and pretend I’m gainfully employed and poetry didn’t save my life when I was still young and impressionable.
I cannot get over how cute you are in all of those pictures on FB and how when we talk you’re always so sweet and unbelievably welcoming.

Want to walk through an art museum with you backwards so everything is in reverse and the ugliness of inspiration never fails to revitalize your beautiful spirit.
I’m sitting here in Cleveland, Ohio thinking of you in Glasgow, Scotland believing that once upon a time we were all rolling stones and didn’t worry about how it may feel.
You inspire me like a flooded basement as I do my best to color outside of the lines and write you a lullaby you can actually fall asleep to.
Is there a stuffed poet who helps make things more shockingly real for you?

Charles Cicirella

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