frankly, my dear

fill your belly with beer
after beer after beer after beer
your mind will swerve lazily
around all road signs and red lights
steering clear and moving
straight in the direction
of disaster, you’ll throw up the
middle finger and with a slur say
frankly my dear i don’t give a damn
to the world, and when you
wake up the next morning,
that clock will send you a sneaky grin
your head filled with what feels like
nail files dragging across the edges
of bent, cheap paperclips tearing
at the skin of your brain, and Monday
will say it just doesn’t give a damn
as it waits for you and watches you
clean up the bottles and cans
clinking against one another in a trash bag
those empty cans and bottles
probably feel like they had been had
because now they are out on the curb
where you tried to hurl all your other problems
during the weekend, stowed away
at some lame house party
in the suburbs

___
written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: infuse

strike iii

she looked away and let
the words stay hidden
so that they may not be
bitten by the teeth of
her dissatisfaction
but beware to the ones
who push her buttons
for a reaction out of jest –
because she’ll tear down
the best of you and settle
for nothing less

___
written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: reprieve

the liar & the stones

kill two birds with one stone
but the meaning of his words
were long, long gone – so a
flock overtook his throne
and they watched on,
perched high upon wires
all along they had known
he was the most cowardly liar of all liars
hid his pride behind a single
rock, his tiny ivory tower
always casting the first stone
chasing after bones, crying wolf

__
written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: catapult

looking;

not even the mirror
could hold me within
as i stared and stared
i felt what i saw of myself
peel away – like saying
a word, repetitiously
until it loses all meaning,
just chewing on sounds –
between myself and
what i gazed at
was nothing but air,
and i was looking back
at what could never
get away from the square
in which i stood in front
of, almost every day –
trying to figure out
my angles and what
i should say

__
written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: unmoored