Souvenirs et non-sens.

Junior mint boxes spent,
with letters arriving in the post office.
Whilst glistening bridges,
shake hands with "summer tires."

Slip in the very midst,
of crocheting that pale sweater.
The bones reach up; rendering words...
to the square of my nose.

Sprinkle the sugar and honey,
right on the favor of my heart.
it's mirrored pose like the sculpting,
of a sweet-tasting mosaic's art.

Seek refuge to the sharp rocks,
should they pierce the bottom of the sea.
Return to thee whence,
teeth was like flier-and-bobbin

Fancy not the poison,
which spilleth over your brow.
For one day that twining city,
will be tossed over the moon's shine.

Cross every secondhand exterior,
of the bad sower's thread.
Rub your souls onto the carpet,
but don't expect electricity.

Here comes another tea party,
open wide, say cheese!
But don't make any obvious noises,
whilst you choke in fallacy.

Tis' rude to leer at every poor...
insolent, beautiful, petal...
as they dwindle together.
Pricking you would be fairest.

Headfirst, heart last,
launch into the marshmallow abyss.
The cup, the clear, the windowpane,
my hands stick like circus splendor.

The flashbacks do spurt and shoot,
a twisted circuit of it's own.
I reach for the ladder with licorice arms,
and climb up the metal slide.