Mustard

Sleeping through another Sunday

a lost weekend

approaching Monday

accosted by a debutante

offering more than I could want

Senses leaving snail trails heaving up the debris of the night before

crush my skull with feather weight poems

I know but I`m not sure

From out of nowhere I`m stuck in traffic

Life is a gas station and I`m on empty

brush my teeth with wire wool

and worry about my inclinations

someone takes a toke of toxic

television screams off the wall

fading in the next drink

I think but I`m not too sure

And it looks like mustard

smells like mustard

feels a lot like glue

It looks like mustard

burns like mustard

comes on just like you

Standing idly on the corner

disheveled and out of order

Reveling in faded glory

I get told another story

senses leaving snail trails heaving up the debris of the night before

crush my skull with feather weight poems

I know but I`m not sure

And it tastes like mustard

smells like mustard

feels a lot like glue

looks like mustard

burns like mustard

comes on just like you