Poetry · Scene · Writing

Without Order

Blankets tied the edge of the bed

to the ceiling. Wrapped in tied dyed

sheets from the Dollar Tree with

monkies swinging from branch to

branch. We see things different.

Upside down shows us the way 

it’s supposed to be. Anarchy and Peace

hold hands skipping to a better

tomorrow. I wish I could of taken that

blue pill sometimes. Sit up straight and

pretend it doesn’t exist.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s