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Asclepias MAG
April 5, 2011
Memories scream from the back door
(someone left it open)
The aleutian still barks at the stars
(he thinks they'll fall down and hurt him)
Everything is normal
Something isn't right
I got a pocket
Of the asclepias
You gave me them for my birthday
(pressed in an ivory white sheet so thin)
Haunting me
But why?
I want to shout
I want to scream
(but a hand comes over my mouth)
Stop and get ready for the blow torch
Pain is your pleasure
Your pleasure is my pain
© Matt M., Ponca City, OK
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