sad eyes on the sofa
an island she doesn't explain
only anecdotally in pantomime
or mimicry as in shadows
while her flailing arms react
to the undulations of her stalk
so when a force of any kind -
such as a misinterpreted thought -
penetrates her energy field
it's a veritable comedy of predictability
to which one could become habitually attracted
prodding the sow - so to speak...
I'm not interested in small talk
nor the signing of the seldom seen
but enjoy a good laugh at the expense
of anything I don't understand
thereby making my ignorance
as pure and the thrice urinated snow
so with the proper measure of pride
I dance on top of the thick bodied heap
as if it were made of gold
or something else
that someone else values
because I have none of my own
all of mine are shadows
reactions of predictability
pointless rituals to my pathos...
so I am out to steal yours
but only those things
that you really want to keep
that which you hold dear
to suck out the nectar
to trample on the goodness
You've infused in them
when you aren't looking
through those sad eyes