Goldfish Politics
Tip the chalice and the
crimson brew
Starts to spew over the
tapestries
Elegant and heaven sent
Logic seems to clunk like
bricks on what I should do
Knowing drinking is not the
proper thinking
To take this in and begin to
send the wrong message
To my future as if the swamp
is rising and the cannon
Is balling through my window
into a calling
Of who I was and who I am, is
the man
Who tries to bottle up
explosives just because
He can not trap the dove in
the cage
Find a medium for rage
For what was and will be
I hope the nectar of revenge
is never that sweet
To tempt me into that sugar
rush of jealousy
To paint the other man as a
better lawn
I think I think I rather be
on the brink of me
No certain but discrete, line
not crossed
Nervous about the spots, but
the carpet was never clean
To begin with and all the
remnants can be seen with the x-ray cereal box specs
Secret decoder rings and
songs the debutants never sing
Just a violin under my chin
under a streetlight bantering gibberish
For why the goldfish can not
go in with the other fish
Something in the expulsion
from the school, just born that way didn’t ever break the rules
Consciously, just constructed
by God to be in the isolation cell
Because there feces are killing us
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