Menacing Bowl of Grapes

Let’s say for a minute you’re not Dynasty .

Pretty much worthless. A picture of the sun over the real one, is no misdeed.

Cast a spell, connecting all inner thoughts, associations to the topic, or main statement. Right now we are talking about people and fake shit. This bowl, of grapes lightly drop out the bag, getting washed the toll. Purple fading, won’t last another week. Sat real low in my high chair where they wanted me. These grapes, for all intents and purposes is going to be the death of me. Things that kill me. So many but, few. Devour by the ones not two. Impatience, my time is long overdue. Complements from people, who don’t trust you. Eggs on the face of a clock. Even through the mess, time doesn’t stop. Sweeping through, spreading, harder to clean. Unsweetened ice-cream. All the weight and none of the satisfaction. Magnets that lose their attraction. When you stop being you.

Now, jump through hoops. Handling expensive fragile things. The drop. The misfortune it brings. Telling a humming-bird when and how to sing. Breather slower and slower everything second. Run towards danger without holding a weapon. Take a couple of shot but, accept them. Bad memories, forget about it, repress them. Explain to your friends why you left them. Full off the first plate, here is extra. Ha I lied, all I did was move the rice around the plate just to test ya greedy ass. Prove that you we’re set up. Run from everything you want to love, never let up. Talk about your past, never shut up. Hold onto slipping conversations long enough. Miss the last breath, whispering don’t forget me. Know the pain of a broken toe by breaking a finger. Deceit, cease to linger.

Cross the street, dropping money on the ground. Raise a child that isn’t your own. Go to the mall buy everything, give that shit back. Learn to deal with heart attacks. Listen even while you talk. Carry a rock up a mountain. Plant it at the top. Don’t care about anyone who hates you. Learn to care about nothing. Always be for something. Share a breakfast muffin.

On the last branch. The feeling of running out of something. Animals hunting. Bills due. Fast food. Candy too. Energy to start the day. Stress to keep me awake. Cake mix to bake. Sort had a bad date with fate. Immature over eight. Enough knowledge to know my place.

Doing a whole lot of nothing now. That’s all of the grapes.No mistake, still have the bowl, taste on my tongue has fallen out of favor. The experience wasn’t really for me to savor. Stepped in before the grapes had a chance to naturally meet their maker. Truth be told. Now my stomach hurts. Acid about to burst. The path my life is on can be considerable worst. Things said when pain no longer hurts.