Chump Change

Nickels and pennies

Prick me like

Thorns

Their motives are clear

To fill the space of

A quarter

Slammed face first into an endless slot of

Dark and light

Without knowing

Till it starts another load

Loads and loads

Cycle of dirty laundry

But I’m out of quarters

When the suds subside I won’t be there

To fold you back together

I won’t fill up your machine while the dile turns green

You’ll wait for an eternity like the machine you are

Your turns and cycles won’t take out the stains

You left inside my rib cage

I should mess with your wires and burn all your cords

I should gut all your parts like plumbers do floors

But the dryer is much different you see

What you wet he dries

What you wrinkle he irons

All without letting the colors bleed

The tide hits the shore

But the colors stay bright

The tags don’t scratch at my backtalk

The fit is perfectly imperfect

And the size fit like a glove without the G

I won’t miss your cycles

Nor your charge and fees

I won't stay in the company of a machine