squalid, in a stream

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pining for the universal doorway
we sit recalcitrant staring at our own casket
the symbol of giddy children or muscle men, circus bound
with no other option than to be what others say they should become.
without from the to gets too much attention and bubbles form
facing a new nest recorded in stagnant waters already reached by dark rays of yellow birds, curious of their brethren possessions, chaos in the treetops
spite on the ground
"i can't ascribe to the same eddies as your upbringing"
still, he tries to be patient and rectitude
soaking up another culture's beat
twanging and swaying
free

the tongues slip out of frowns awaiting turtles in biohazard cores
it's creepy time for sure
a little man with large eyes in a tiny head
feeding on whatever floats by
wearing stepladders and french people
it was almost over
the clover had come for crowds to graze
for the glaze of normalcy flowing into rivers
with no other personality than point A, point B
swoops! cooing. this pixie dies in small part upon hearing organ choruses
and mother keeps up her back breaking routine
squalid, in a stream