Barely Hanging Around

Last night my girlfriend and I had a fight.
Instead of the bed I was banished to the sofa.
I so hope a reconciliation comes fast
cuz without her I don’t think I’m gonna last.
I’m not gonna lie, but every moment I spend on my couch I think I might die.

And not from any horrible disease or some basic need unmet.
Although my death could quite possibly be linked to my own neglect.
It seems to me to be pretty secure and all, but every so often I hear this erie almost foreboding creak
As if everything’s about to fall off the wall-a mere millisecond before killing me in my sleep.
You see when it comes to handiwork I’m no slouch,
but I recently tried hanging this giant framed painting over my living room couch.
And really, it’s only a matter of time
before my skull is crushed and a bazillion shards of glass stegasaur down my spine.
Imagine that.
You’re snoring a little too loud–shift sides while spooning the remote…because its dark…
and wham !!!
You’re killed by a piece of shitty art–
beheaded by an amateurish rendering of Ice-Skaters in Central Park.
Now it’s one thing to be killed by a piece of good art or fine art, you know by one of the greats,
but imagine dying from a crappy finger-painting of two ferns burning that everyone hates.
Pathetic.
Truth be told I live near the very same ice skating rink in Central Park pictured on my wall.
What if I was maimed, injured or killed by a picture of said rink rather than by the rink itself.
Also pretty sad.
I think i’m gonna go apologize to my girlfriend
so I can continue
to hang
with her.

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About Scottt

Actor, Author, Poet.

Posted on March 25, 2011, in Poems. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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