Recycled words tend to mean something when they don’t mean a thing
Recycled words like trash rolled down the highway
Used up and shriveled over like the ones you threw my way
Recycled words slapped through the next one’s skull
Improper navigation, no way to find the sweet origin and squeeze each letter from above.
Adornment, luxury, desire, frustration
All representing the structure of our previous relation.
Outraged and defeated, I retreated to my hole
Wondering how I could ever think my words would bring you home.
So each distasteful memory
shed out ancient disposal as opposed to the joyous scripture your partner read
It was worthless, a fretted incident.
Recycled words like recycled dreams,
Upsetting the stomach of anticipated things.
Like meeting the future and greeting it with a smile
Freeing my inner perceptions and aiming them in your direction,
Without another vile human to mislead either side.
But why would I? “Too far ahead,” says consultants and friends,
Nevertheless you still hold the lease to rent the space in my head.
Recycled words never felt so raw, a dead bird with the face cut off.
The face and fixture of what once was and could be,
Ripped apart and torn to pieces, shriveled up paper with a messed up thesis.
Emotional curse, dark clouds all around
Drown…drown…drown.
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