what?!??
you've killed me, he says laughing
and staggers backwards into the edge
of the light where something
messes his hair.
he's annoyed, but can't do anything
about it, because his hands are melting
and his legs are crumbling into glitter
glue heaven you idiots. you idiots.
you idiots.
holy crap, this is awesome
i don't even care
disorder is seemly, everyone!
the order of the day is to take your
shirts off and put spandex tights
on your heads.
like mr bean with random lady's cardigan,
now that is freedom, guys.
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
If you or someone you know is struggling, you are not alone.
988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline — call or text 988, 24/7. Crisis Text Line — text HELLO to 741741.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
Comments are closed for this poem.