Soft

It’s a character I grew up listening to,
a silly face.

Funny how funnies always water
the night terrors down.

Oh, I’m not ashamed that I need them.

Don’t you dare tell me
what I need to be ashamed of.

Did you notice that?
Everyone telling each other
what shame to feel?

The world is a heavy sponge
filled with shame.

Someone wring us out.

We dream about former love
people, places, things,
love that almost was
then drown ourselves
with static versions of it.

Does anyone know anyone anymore?
Does anyone accept that the people
we love will inevitably change?

If I told you I was different
would believe me
or would you judge me by
my surroundings?

Please tell me there’s a few out there.
Are you out there
in the ethereal disconnect?

Create, just create,
that’s all I can think.
My concepts of children
are always half born.

I’m a chaotic machine,
but when you tear me open, you’ll find
fur, felt, lint, stove top stuffing.

I soak in the bath for hours
until I’m soft, soft.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s