Our Little Paper World

We are all paper people
destined for our paper futures

a delicate structure
only time can tell.

With paper bodies come
paper souls,
and from paper souls come
paper links

maybe I'm linked to you
but that's all that keeps me
from strangling you in your
sleep with your own socks

[God I hate your socks
you never take your socks off
not for sleep
not for sex
not for anything
is it too much
for me to ask you
to take your fucking
socks off once in a while?]

Maybe
in the love-quenched days at the beginning
we got on
like the setting sun
against the Crayola sky
but deterioration sets in
like snow on a barn's roof in the country
with every snide remark
concieted comment
your glazed eyes that reside to the TV
when you really should be looking right here.

You're setting our paper daisy chain links
on fire
snipping away with the silver shears of
indescretion
at the little paper bridge
connecting our little paper bodies
as our little paper selves burn from
the toes
to the legs
do the hem of my dress and the lip of your shirt
until we fall into two little ash piles
reduced
to "no time for breakfast" and
"pass the salt please".