Plathological

shetland

everyday I cry because I don’t have a pony,
like when a hand touches a building
I keep dropping bowls.
pretty soon I’ll be knocking them over.
can it tell? because down they go,
not a crack on them, ready to pick up
limpbrain, recordstores, & an address
becomes an old one. before you touch the new walls.

I feel unloved only for the reason that there's been no sleep
and my skin will start reminding me of a certain music soon,
start picking among the inanimate hiding place of animals
you fight back with boiling water down the drain.