mmWritten by

Breakdown.

Breadman's Daughter| Views: 636

Hey E Baby,

most of the time

I can deal

with this thing

that hangs in the air

like smoke

from the cigarettes

you couldn’t live without

I put on

the brave face

red lipstick involved

trip out

in the shit-kicking boots

 

I laugh on cue

toss this hair back

theatrics invoked.

 

But every now

and then

when alone

invisible

I go

to the tenuous

dark

unspoken places

cloaked in fear

aching with despair

 

It strikes

with a vengeance

malignant ill.

 

Sometimes

in the vague

shadows

of a kitchen

mourning

or in the truck

plunging across

the bay street bridge

often walking down

beaver lake road

lunch interrupted

and sour

once while searching

for ties

in the men’s department

 

I get lost

in colors and textures

shopping disrupted.

 

In these times

I break down

fall to pieces

crumble

cookie-wise

fragmented

hopeless crybaby

motherless child

scared cat

chicken-shit coward

 

Hey E Baby,

sometimes

I just need

time out

to be

this sad love.

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