What a waste. Without a taste,
stretching out for help, but found
none in suns on yellow days,
frowning drowning pastel clown.
Nothing’s sweat in salty tears,
only smeared & only itchy
make up made up of those years—
dark, & yet they still bewitch me.
Dump you down my creaky drain,
please remind me of the rain—
Please! I promise to behave…