Small price to pay

A small price to pay it is–

Floating cloudlessly in the atmosphere,

Frolicking childishly with palms knitted like spines.

There’s no redeeming the nauseating sentiments

that stain the amputated, carpeted corazon like red wine.

A small frost face fixture–

I’m baby blissful of your infant liaison,

but I shouldn’t be selfish of that I can’t possess.

For I must now be the sole survivor of a catacomb clay cluster

to never be promoted from a spectating snail strolling

along the salty mustard yellow, spoiled soil.

A small world within petite words–

For those red ant locutions gazelle bite bosoms                     .

It’s a delicious blessing to contain these fancies

for your lice fistful turds.

It’s a                I must live with. A                  can’t

be rejected or skin stripped

for it’s bound like threads of DNA

encrypted without ejection.

A small whimsical whiff whiskey is–

The schematic, liberating remedy to sneeze

skeletal sins where the exfoliated

fireside bourbon 

sips like paraplegic parchment

entirely veneered with moral mahogany

and immoral incense.

Owing the unavoidable, undeniable candor.

A small crystal curious chalice–

The midnight savory snack smeared

voiced peccadilloes to                        you.

No matter how                        cry and sweat to forget,

it seems as though mix-and-match

membranes choose to leech endlessly.

If you stumble across this

crippling concoction,

then understand 

I can’t gamble

with that.