This is the non-confessional diary of an empty shoe,
left behind in the vestibule,
set to die as a vegetable.
Spinach. In a can. Wider aisles to enter through
at this grocery store. I'm open. You're closed.
Times align with the crescent moon.
__________________
I'm just swinging swords strictly based on keyboards, unbalanced like elephants and ants on seesaws.
|