It's a half past queer
and I'm all alone
in this bathtub of mellow...

eating my bowl of yellow jello,
because as you know, have to keep the
figure tight while I fight the urges to

submerge myself under the water.
Because your weariness,
my dear,
makes me tired and it's all too easy
to slip into a warm tub coma.

With a sigh,
I look to the clock on the wall
and notice the hands have not moved -
still a half past queer.

So I turn the candle on
and shimmer in the sheen of bathtub sweat
listening to you breathe as you slumber
in hibernation from a world you don't understand,
and sure as shit doesn't understand you.

After a while, my tub is cold and my yellow
jello all but gone, so I haul myself up and out
stepping onto a cold floor,
and there you stand,

my nakedness mirrored
in your face and my warped love gurgles
as it spirals down the drain
with the tub water...

so you take my hand and enquire about the jello.
I shake my head, all gone,
you nod, it's okay, and we retire
for a while.

Some things don't change. Good piece.

Hmm...mellow ellow jello...I prefer green, but this is an interesting poem, nonetheless.

Joe

An interesting read, Gwyd.


Les

Sometimes we only truly see ourselves through the eyes of others, other times no one truly knows us at all. Good read.