Cattle Never Explode Quite When You Want Them To (try to sleep)

Sophistication-
Burn it into your retinas
Write it on the Walls.

We have ceased
Naming games after poultry
Instead we stand naked
Throwing stone at tempered glass
Wondering just who will shatter first.

And we all walk alone,
Colliding on our sex trails
Diverging again at bumpy roads
Looking for a sunny reprieve
And sand to bury our toes in.

I'll pick the thorn from my foot
And my face from the ground
For a linoleum backplant
To look at sponge painted ceilings
And convince myself of the skies.

Origami flowers from broken fingers
Crucified in pot soil
That I continue to water
To humble myself from the decay

And it is all decaying
But with such brutal functionality
And I collect all the shards
To mend every broken bottle
Finish every puzzle
That time tries to erode.

And the jester's of my yesterdays
Will sit in styrofoam kingdoms
As awkward and wide eyed as newborns
Knowing not, but food and a fear of falling.

Their thrones will not disintegrate,
But crumble in overuse
Rolling foam dots on my fingertips,
I'll forge my own scenery.

And I will be keen to the wolf
Who I wave to from my glass house
His nose pressed and steaming
As I build sand castles on my floor
Just to blow them away.

Hungry out of obligation
He's picking the shards from his teeth
Of fist clutched tempered pebbles.

Shrapnel-
Shattered stones or rocks shattering
(I can't really remember)
Just the whiplash
And trailing fingers
Scanning for bloody peices.

Through the nicks and scrapes and blood
It is the questionable coinsorter
Where we finally understood the term "them"
And our numbers dwindled.

We fucked Infidelity so hard
She wouldn't put out anymore
We just got off and wondered
If there was life after this...

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Yeah.. i couldn't think of a title... this whole poem was a wrench from sleep at 5 am poem... a lapse, as it were.. haha.