The Moldy Corners
The cacophony found within my skull
Bubbly and bouncing
Off every wall
The catatonic catastrophe
And all the
The oxymoronic epiphanies
All a whirl and yaking away
Always passing
They never stay.
But somewhere towards the very rear
Or just perhaps
Far too near
Or maybe it's just easier to pretend
You can't see the horrors
Of a forgotten fantastic friend
There in the moldy corners she sits
With all your favorite toys
Figurines and matching outfits
The most memories and comings of age
Portrayed out as we tussled
On emerald blades
She smiles at me and all I can know
Is the half assed shame
Of having let go
And I can blame her for all these days
But the brutal truth is
Phones work both ways.
