MIND


My mind is a forest fire.
There are no tourists here.
It’s all clear.
Fear hides inside It’s box.
Thoughts talk and talk.
Memories flow out like lava.
As the life of this mind goes on and on.





I am


I may be that drip of paint
or the tip of your pen while you're scrolling away
or the shake from the quake months ago.
I could always be that book you threw
across the room into some glue
that quite oddly mooed.
I may be your missing left shoe.
Whew, you never knew that shoe lay skewed
underneath the head of your bed
as you heavily tread across your room
walking straight to your doom
which they assume was in the plot...
Or maybe just an afterthought.

Robot Robot

Robot Robot made of steel
the new yet rustic feel
glorious glamorous teal.
Someday doomed to take over
never to learn the truth
until it’s all over.

---