raining a place,
into an empty
being unfulfilled
perhaps unrealized
this yawning of a somewhat
or
would I be
without my anger?
flowing into certainty
of whims
like violins dressing up
frustration.
rust scabbed windowpanes.
the unseen
rinse does unclean
,not seethe, the pointing out
of dust.
stop, go
rig-a-moral, pony
tell a story, is it gory
or a skirt?
flirt amongst the dirt.
don’t accept rides
from brides
of bribes,
is that a cradle
does it come in my size?
a fingerprint
on the mirror once told me
who I was.