Warthog Fashion Plaza

take your tiny “ill at ease”

neither bend fold crease nor tear

smell the breath of that vicious rumour

and tell me that you don’t care

those refrigerated tantrums

that always stole your best

are all gathered via the wounding’s

and alphabetically laid to rest

that fucking Sunday sober note

of carefully layered silence

nested amongst the weedling’s now

fat from frequent violence

in a maze a razored memories

a whirl of stunning sadness

time and space are laid to waste

from within this cunning madness

everything is different now

and all we are is all we’ve ever been

behind a closed and blinded eye

some things can never be unseen

beneath this shifting shimmering haze

that reality has become

behind a cold and lonely tear

everything is numb