Not overcooked. Not undercooked. Just all half-baked goodness in every write.
Saturday, March 2, 2013
Dearest paint This room I give thee May you cover politely with intent My brushes glopped with thy goo May they find purchase on blessed walls For I, being, a simple man and painter of fleeting consequence Reject the purchase of more goo gloppers I've plenty And rollers who easily coat, spinning and crackling Spray me not I need no more freckles Nor hair coloring Nor fingernails fraught with mysterious Rorsarch blots And if, during your duties, find the floor Spread not Nor find the soles of my feet Lest they carry you to the ends of the home Sharing your philanthropic physics with thirsty carpet Dearest paint My hands will guide you with implements of consternation Tedious and odious And often odorous Spread evenly, you must Or off to the store I must With wallet and reluctance To the counter for more of you Though charming and colorful you may be Expensive art thou since ye aren't free