Store Your Affliction

Fireflies , without wings
 stripped, by the child
who needed a pair for
dreaming.

Their final containment,
 a jar, fashioned from sadness
 melted, heated molten
 then blown
to match the color
 of his pain

His walk, hindered
 by a hitch, he can't identify.

Sure to cross dress,  in
obedience, and appropriate
behavior,
 always

Tears,  bullets from his eyes
saturate tomorrow,  trying
to smile, apologetically for
feeling,  something

I lean in, to lizten to
the Weaver's of wicker,  
 the blind
weaving dreams
into stools, no one cares

Nothing can be heard
with one deaf ear,  that
 He hasn' t already said

Soon,  I will pay my attention
 with an abundance,
disregard distractions , because
that, Is what's expected.

A convoluted mess
of distortion hangs, in the  air,
 left over
from yesterday's thoughts
he  no longer wanted
They  hang
 tethered by a cord
 transparent in it's shade
of colly  blue

Fondled with fine manipulation,
  by slim fingertips,
who guard me from nuisances
that claim to know
 who I love

Seeking the rain for a
reason to complain

Days ago
 I stored my affliction,
 into deep rooted bark,
 made of polystyrene trees
they hold a promise to never
 decay.

Their misery held onto
for those who wish to
revisit their agony


A  conveyor belf of pain
for the taking
Re slicing open wounds  
I can TAKE  from whenever
I want
I don't want