Meh.

Why do things that are broken always pour out?
The pressure of contents seeking release.
This spilling response of something needing to go somewhere.
Only so much of little particles built up, can be contained behind cracked parts.

Glue, hold together, glue again.
Sit and stare at the parts.
They fit together don't they?
Not anymore. Not to me.
Missing pieces.
The fear of an eternal leak.

This gravity pushing, pulling.
Evaporation spreads it out.
Makes room for tomorrow.

Do not worry about tomorrow.
Each day has enough trouble of its own. 

Not the savior

The toilet needed cleaning because dang it, it matters.
Plaid pants and striped slipper boots, because I want to.
Red lipstick with a hoodie seen by no one, but it's pretty to me.
Chopin and oils because, people, go run your own life.
The time, a clock that disappeared from my wall.
Stop apologizing because you aren't what people want.
So what? I like the perfume that smells funny.
Perfume never saved anybody, it never will.