The graphics of this computer
are starting to yell at me.
Make them stop!
Beliefs are chasing my head
with a slice of corn.
Signals and signs-
It's no coincidence that the best time
to consume a lemon
is when you're heartbroken
and-
Where did the dishes go?
I had a pile of clips
on the top of my desk
with a sexy, sexy bed
that gave me slices of bread.
The wrappers of such confections
still stretch over the walls
and clamber up to the ceiling
when the fires of baked pizza
start screaming.
Air-Fresheners
are a portal into the world of Nether.
She enjoys ripping my tether-
I must tell mother!
YOU ARE READING
Incoherent Poetry
PoetryPoetry that serves to clash tonally and ideally with the objective that a new tone, genre, or coherency (some semblance of sense at all) can be made from throwing different ideas together in a bizarre gathering of words.
