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.

Somehow, through the veins wasting
you couldn't see anything.
You missed those careful notes,
the climbing hopes.
Unusual as water flowing uphill,
Strangely creeping,
this blatant rebellion against gravity,
as if the world would explode any minute.

I sigh into the apocalypse,
placing some gargoyles onto my eves
and making a dusky cup of peppermint tea.
This doomsday like any other,
wintery, red and sleepy,
drowning in apathy.