Sour Grapes
Girl was growing up immature,
thinking unfulfilling stops.
A low cool breast was
dream-working sour grapes.
Time was taking care to never
isolate the saddest round.
And the opposite implant
started speaking.
Saying an interesting painting:
“GOOD SECRET, KILL DEAD, FOREVER FEEL GOOD.”
Girl planned with eyes and wings
to shake with indifference-
to experience no extremes.
No love hate desire.
And called for the power of excited people.
Then she killed dead a little.
