On The Verge Wearing Yellow
A banana whale on wheels with a belly full of poisons
and I drive her with no one but the wind to talk to
I stand on two laced up wallets and try to hold my head up high
maybe to god or the trees or anyone but you and you and you
I unwind my phallic extension and let go the pent-up pressure
feeling incomplete and dangerously close to getting caught
Huffing back to my sea monster whom I wish death upon
I try shedding tears to float back on wanting to undo my past choices
Even you though you pump blood through my heart and open wide with me
every part softening when I see your two closed jewels in the night
I am a massive ton now killing the Earth and quaking at my stench
I was never meant for this, was anyone?
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