matchstick poetry
and a ticket for two
to the revelry and a ball
opening night on
a sunday

a haberdasher quietly
works away in the corner
of your warehouse
you've
not a clue where he came from

well maybe it's blue
Sundays that put you in a
state like this
but I can't restrict myself
from pointing out the irony
on a night like tonight
on the town

the words don't make it
your silent retreat dignifies
your stance on
issues such as opinions
narratives
Escher
and all the other shit
that not many kids these days
care to understand

I didn't think I could write
today
but the smell
invasive, yet pleasant
tied to other times taken
a little more seriously
made me think
there were better things to remember
and I would need some help
with this one