There’s something

inside thats falling apart.

It’s frail and it’s shattered

like bitten nails and acrylic art.

The mail is coming slower

to the brain,

somewhere it’s pre-opened

and doesn’t taste the same.

Daylight breaks through,

the struggling entrails of dreams.

There’s something unnatural 

about always wishing for yesterday.

I’m like a sunburst cherry,

too ripe and summer’s done.

Like I’ve had enough and it's no fun,

A tired tape on re-run.

7/6/14

Veronica Russell