Broken.

Wild crests calling egg shaped heads,
clearing bloody crumbs from
the cream colored tablecloth.

Tension rides over the current
which resides at the top of the room
near the oldest books on the shelf,
off of the air, bouncing.
It spills out of the crack in the
heads just above the ears
ringing like a newly ready teapot.

Just for now, push the top
of your loose head down to hold in
that wavelength which rings
like nails on a hollow chalkboard.

The wraith like demon
floating about this family dinner
is the most disgusting resemblance
clutching onto wrists with the
receptive skin waving
like flags around the bone.

Broken.
Broken.
Broken.