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
*Insert Propaganda Here* 
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
WHAT WERE THEY REALLY SAYING ?