Keep your toys downstairs,
Keep your eyes
Above the horizon,
Even when you think you'll
Slip down the slope
Yet again.
If you think your friends are
Little megaphones without
People behind them,
Flickering projections built in
A cave of withered creatures,
Shut up and laugh along.
When words are flecks of spit
Upon your cheek that
Tear you,
Marring the shallow pool
Of esteem,
Store them in a secret box
That no one will see.
When vultures flock about,
When paranoia drones in your ear,
Parry the funny feelings.
When every turn you take is
A dead end,
Every breath quivers, every inch of
Peach fuzz stands up,
When you're a frozen piece of meat,
Imprisoned in an ugly body,
Asking the ceiling fan for
Answers,
When the grass is stale,
When the air is drained, and
The world is a pair of jaws
Waiting to suck you in,
Wear a smile that
Never touches
Your
Eyes.
YOU ARE READING
Today Wasn't The Best
Poetry"Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they aren't after you." -Joseph Heller
