my pen is.
questions such as and including
why is there a piece of cheddar cheese
sitting on the bathroom sink
looking up at me while i brush my teeth
circle my head in great hovering buzzard swarms.
Circling and occasionally diving down,
red death beaks
parrot tongue blood thirsty grins,
snap at my thoughts,
eating my feelings,
digesting my self-worth
and reasons for living.
Hour long marathons watching survivor man feasting on scorpions.
Ignore the incessant not so handy man across the street
who decides it’s a great idea to use a weed whacker
to mow his entire front lawn
on a sunny summer sunday afternoon.
I feast on apples and fake meat.
I never learn from my mistakes.