Just because it’s a sentence
doesn’t mean it has to mean anything.
Life is basically a bake sale.
The cure is in the ailment.
Failure is the rule.
Decadence unrolls
like a vast spool of thread
in the dead air
of this nowhere town,
mixing with the aroma of potato chips,
diapers, and armpit sweat.
All bets are off, then on again.
My heart is askew.
Partially fiction.

-r. miller

One thought on “Complaint

  1. I couldn’t think about the potato chips
    or the faint diaper scent
    I just couldn’t get past the fact
    that I was the only one at the opening
    that wasn’t modeled after a Botticelli figure
    several people tried to make me feel better
    by saying that I smelled like a warm puppy

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s