Senseless Sunday Sarcasm ( a not-quite-right #poem )


As I walk through the forest of my life

unraveling the brambles of my thoughts,

questions passing through a weary mind,

look toward another year of drought.


The machete of a brain that once retained

a sharpened edge no longer cuts my path.

I sit among the fallen leaves and ask,

Why do hemorrhoids have to plague my @$$โ€ฆbutt.


My forest thickens, light dims from my eyes,

The pancakes that were once my melon breasts

beg to know the reasons why I thought

brasย changed the gravity upon my chest.


If I could do it all over again,

A bra-less, playful person Iโ€™d become,

moving through the branches of my trees

instead of sitting so much on myโ€ฆbum.