s are painted something between peach
i'm in a crib
through the cool
white bars to my left i see mom
i make a small noise
that i've learned means "I want some fucking milk!"
i have a clear view of her mirror
on the wall
the mirror contains deep
thoughts of reality
the complexity fright
i should look away
so i won't be forced to think about mirror universes
mom returns, interupting my view and thusly
, my thoughts
mom gives me a bottle
i don't know the word
i should use to tell her, "Bitch, this shit is rancid!"
i say "hot
"; a word i do
know to express "Bitch, I can't drink this!"
she takes it away and returns to her make-up
she should be
just another day log
. move along now...