Day 262 – Goodbye to an Old Yellow TV Stand

You were with us, ugly and heavy,
for several years, we never
had the time or motivation to haul you
out to the street so instead we just
kept stuffing you with plastic shopping bags
ever since Kevin moved out and decided
his girlfriend had better furniture.
I guess you probably saw a lot, every time
we rearranged the living room, always
ending up sweaty and too tired to care
that you were still hanging around. But
we’re getting down to the stuff on the bottom
of the list, it’s time to have something they call
an entertainment center, and god what a bitch it was
to disassemble you and leave you on the curb,
have fun at the landfill, I’ll be somewhere similar,
I’m sure, in a couple years

Day 261 – Your Own Soundtrack

you need something, alright
but it’s not what you seem to think
awareness is a gift, I guess
when you’re so close to the brink

but you’ve known all this time
exactly how to pull it back
I’ve heard this song so many times
you love your own soundtrack

a memory, a fantasy
it doesn’t matter which one
they’re both dead in the past
but the funeral’s never done

the wine to aid your grieving
didn’t keep you from the brink
just from jumping, just from living
a rosary dropped in a drink

and you want a napkin to dry your eyes
because existence makes you cry
well I’d like a set of earplugs, please
the best that money can buy

Day 259 – Our Herded Hearts

If love was a field of green, why shouldn’t we be cows?
Fill up four stomachs with all that abundance,
why couldn’t we thrive on that redundance,
get fat off the wealth that nature allows?

And if love was a waiting trap, why shouldn’t we walk in?
Recite the tale to our sons and daughters,
then come with heads held high to the slaughter,
why should we lament what our end has been?

Day 258 – Oranges for Sale

I know, except for the mustache,
the man selling oranges could be me-
always one bad decision away
from tearing it all down.

I put my hands on the steering wheel
and stow away my mind-
my eyes don’t dare to show him how hard
I’m wondering if it’s his fault.

I wonder if he takes his blame
like I would blame myself-
or has life taught him too that we’re
just glass things on a shelf.

And when he looks at me
does he see someone who could fall
so easily, come tumbling down,
someone who’d break,
no one at all