Clamshell container: A breakup song

Ever'thing, Floetry

Clamshell container, lawyer on retainer
Broken sink strainer, stop this rain
Or else,
(Just play the hand I’m dealt;
No deck with new cards, no new deal).

Blind man’s bluff, can’t you see?
Can’t remember the we that we
used to be.
(Look around you, see me;
Ghost in white.)

Quotidian repetition, bitter coffee grind,
Grounds for divorce, sane way to lose
my mind.
(What’s behind all this? Must be something I missed.
Too late to catch up now.)

Never paid attention, always in detention.
Perhaps on that one winter day
I was out.
That’s the day they learned all about it:

CHORUS:
What it means… why we bleed
Why we fight… what we need
To live…to live… to love… to be
To take… from life…the life… we need.

No need for drama, I’m okay.
Hysterical with nothing but dreams
blown away.
(Nightmares on the way;
never wake up now, never sleep).

Had an answer, but questions mount
Thought I had you, but now I know I
don’t count,
(In your new math.
Subtracted, divided, fraction reduced.)

Add up the damage, count the costs,
All you’ve gained is all
I have lost
(Tossed in the tempest,
Full fathom five, lost at sea.)

Have to do, can’t just be
You and the world made me push
Away me.
(No space for my head,
No way to see:)

CHORUS:
What it means… why we bleed
Why we fight… what we need
To live…to live… to love… to be
To take… from life…the life… we need.

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A country song

Ever'thing, Floetry

Left for dead in the right turn lane
Train pulls its payload of waste
Snakes in the sugar and aspartame dreams
Kung Pao Chicken, seasoned to taste.

Clamshell container, red with residue
Styrofoam squeaks in pain.
Give the devil his due, this food’s for my belly
But this liquor maintains my brain.

The lacquer I lay on it stains it
It’s varnished a golden brown hue.
I paint on 3 coats of old Jameson
To forget and to remember you.

Embers and ashes, I poke at the wood
the home fire’s all burned through.
The bed is cold, pantry is empty.
The woes of my world have accrued.

Compound interest; I’d be a rich man
If pain loss and death were pennies.
I found you like religion, lost you like sin,
Consolations? I haven’t found any.