from the lungs of the anti-beige

you aren’t going to be a lampstand
or a party balloon, popped or otherwise
for the whole of your life
you are a weather system
and we’re drinking rain and baking in sun
as much as we’re inside hiding from it

you aren’t making triangle sandwiches
and you aren’t going for basic lemonade
some people might choke on the meal
but you have to prepare it that way
nourishment doesn’t always taste delicious
sometimes the knuckles need to bleed

we are leaving mouth of dry crackers
we are not everything tastes like chicken
we steer clear of everyone says
we are starting bonfires for clichés
and we are shooting gossips
only poets will be granted free passage

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