Not That Funny Is It?

 

Not That Funny Is It?

 

Trochees pound a rhythm,

downstrokes strike and beat,

one more message from me,

puts you on the street.

Mocked up minor movements,

cardboard cut and paste,

sisters sinister

slop buckets full of waste.

Ain’t you glad you did it,

madness loves the mad,

if you loved you hid it,

catch me feeling sad.

Think I’m laughing at you,

don’t know what you think,

living something other,

all you do is drink.

Think I ever miss you,

mourn a missing link,

want to hear from you,

skimming stones that sink.

Think I’m fishing for you,

casting out a line,

watch a float that’s jerking,

reel you up in time.

Think I’m sorry for you,

all you did was scoff,

can I see it clearly,

from your empty trough.

 

Don’t cut me.

I won’t bleed.

Don’t plant me,

I won’t believe.

 

I know I’m not wrong.