Whimsy!

I am the viscous sap.
My mouth is not beautiful.
It is profane and insane and completely absurd-
I know no other technique.

In the harsh light of twinkling fluorescent bulbs
I live monstrous,
a walking contradiction.
Au contraire as you are fair,
let me run watercolor through your feline eyes.
I ramble…

I am in arms with the hippos that were boiled in their tanks
on Saturday night when your mother sat at home
drinking pinot,
and you.
sat on the hood of my car
drinking moonshine.
I identify with the hissing wires of the broken toaster oven
singing an old nineties tune.
Because I am:
stupid crazy,
imprudently fanatical,
whimsy!

I do not have the time to let my tongue
saunter around fancy syllables.
I would much rather you grab your most exquisite butcher knife
and expose the marrow.
If we were tied by words,
words only visually received,
if we were deaf:
I would take better care of you.

Maybe if you would see with your eyes
instead of hear with your little fleshy trumpets
That I am;
stupid crazy
imprudently fanatical,
Whimsy!
You would find me dashing?

Or maybe the shit would hit the fan.