Kiss me on the eardrum,
for old times’ sake.
Wake and bake
to keep our auras intact.
Shutter up, nice and sleazy,
the ham-fisted approach
to easy livin’ in this eggshell suburb.
I guess I haven’t thought this through, but…
Things fall into place so casually,
it seems, so what’s the point?
The poignant charade
commences with a running start.
Our mutual heart
dissolves into a pool
of second thoughts.
-r. miller
*Insert Propaganda Here* 