The What of Things

Fabulous writing from the always fabulous Mirjana. Please take a look at her work.
Richard

Color me in Cyanide and Cherry

escaped_the_prison_they_called_the_head_by_chriseastmids-dbkoe1p

*Image found HERE

The What of Things

Open a dictionary
and look up disaster.
It’s Monday,
my right hand
grips the teaspoon,
my left hand
sends the archduke
to explore the wound.
An exhibit of my voice
pounds my gut
and I ask no one in particular
why do I always sound
just like
a child, begging for a mercy kill.
a junction
of oregano, magenta lace skirts
drooping to the floor,
dripping sorrow down
into the mausoleum of the carpet,
one knife for chicken breasts, one for
potatoes, one for butter, one for peaches,
names like tremolo,
like angel corpses
falling of the edge of a broken lip
into the mass grave of wherevers floor;
my appartment with no doors,
my soul is dead, and bored
from mundane chores
of sweeping, and raking, and picking and taking
and splicing the sunshine like
A and B and O, like
make…

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