I am nine-sided,
But One dimensional.
Moldy like residual buildup in vegetation,
I birth with tiny, drunken, ballerina flies,
Looking to get stone sober,
But end up stone cold.
Scum sucking plastic pebbles of a fish tank,
Scrubbing with tongue,
And with tongue & cheek,
I hold a wish that someday I would grow legs and arms,
With hands! So I could peel my face off the bottom’s surface,
And maybe touch the light I only ever see.
I am one-sided,
But Nine dimensional.
My thoughts cannot convey themselves,
So they approbate inside my brain, and wait to be released like a bull pen
Into the wild pitching eve.