Fred Aiken Writing

Tag: metaphor

holistically confused by the entirety of moving parts

slapped together half-hazardly and called a day or night,

smacked pink by glints of future goo gone amok and stuck to some poor back meant to carry the weight of all that was tossed

into the river and expected to be forgotten,

and distilled into meandering meaning meant to look like fastidious flotsam

passing through the eye of a needle and back again,

but just so long as the place has heating, otherwise I’m out

sitting at the edge of the world,

waiting for the fall,

yet nothing makes it comes,

not even the several hundred nudges

for it all to plunge

quickly making waves out of glass

while pouring gallons of milk and blood down the drain

so the sewage system stays revitalized

to tackle tomorrow’s problems today,

or however the phrase goes,

maybe it’s closer to eat shit and die already,

but I’ll leave that to the taste makers to taste test

whether my bodily functions are poison or not