We are con artists of words
The most deceitful liars
Dealing out bootleg syllables
With grace but no substance
To fools who buy them at top prices,
Nonetheless

We plunder emotions
And fabricate their value
We desecrate the meaning of love
And incise the heart
With the sharp blades of our tongues

We dig scars in the hollows of raw cheeks
And rip open the pink flesh
Again and again with charm
Ceaselessly resisting to heal

The world is our ocean
And we build our raft with
Plaits of fair blonde hair
Stained with the blood
Of the frivolous words that mean nothing
A weak unsustainable means of survival
In a sea made of glistening turquoise hope

We knock back bottles of carbonated desolation
Sweetened with tasty falsehood
Trust no one, even your self
For there is no honor in phonies like me
And no safety for thinkers like you

We submit to the wicked games
Foolishly, seeking love
Trusting the vast untruth
Of empty promises

We cry when Ross tells Rachel
I love you
We weep at the visceral pain
Of other’s heartbreak
We become too involved in the affairs of love

My eyes are glazed over
By a foggy film
Like the moist condensation on a
Soda can

When I hear my daughter’s coo
A glass tear rolls down my cheek
And shatters in my lap
Broken pieces like sharp daggers
Stabbing my suffocating hope

Plenteous brains are nothing but
A catalyst for hollow hearts

A note on the counter
Next to the black eye mask reads
Goodbye. I’m sorry, I love someone else.

Maybe Daisy Buchanan had a point

I hope she’ll be a fool-
that’s the best thing a girl can be in this world-
a beautiful little fool