sometimes i wake and as i stand
my feet against the bathroom tile
a small piece of your mind hangs loosely
on my own and i realize that i must have
dreamt of you to have such a small a piece
of you dangling and though i do not remember
i wonder if in sleep i have found mourning

Rex Tillerson

oh sink in pools of oil
you men who
tell the world
the way it goes
to left to right
under your sausage fingers
that roll away and tumble on the floor
please roll
away and tumble
on the floor
and sink
in pools of pennies
stuck and black
to every
single inch
of your
paunch skin
and
change before
you deign
to venture
back
and change before
we all are
only lack.

tidbit

hush your sister is sleeping
in the grey light of her mind
she's been like that for a while now
so tread lightly please darling be kind