The Scarecrow [an experiment in stream of consciousness]

We had woken and we’d rambled
over heaths and stopped at tearooms.
We allowed ourselves cream slices;
the smallest of your vices
then we swam back up the stairs into your room.

We lay down like perfect strangers.
Never spoke about the strangeness
of why we never aged here in this tomb.
You gave me your warm shoulder.
I assumed it would be colder.
You called, “Baby, put a baby in my womb.”

So began a life of sorrow.
When I think about tomorrow
I just honk my horn and scream for yesterdays.
Love is such a vicious master
and hate always gets there faster.
It travels on more beautiful highways.

I want to be your broken statue
but we both know I can’t match you.
I’ll stick around if you provide the glue.
You can be my wife and mother.
I will be your little brother.
I just want to play some solitaire with you.

There you go, there you go
that’s nearly everything I know
I want to be your scarecrow
So let’s die and let the grass grow.
Unhappiness is the only
happiness I want to know.