My life is made up of patterns,
I'd like to take a big fat pair of pinking shears,
cut them up into little bitty pieces,
stir them in a big fat gold fish bowl,
pick one out and see
if one of the little bitty pieces
holds within it the pattern that is me,
like my DNA on the cigarette butt
left from my lipstick that sucked
out the last
vapor of nicotine into my lungs,
or the blood from the cut
that I inflicted onto the only real thing I know
when I used that big fat pair of pinking shears
to shred the patterns out of my little bitty soul.
ldn
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