Toothpicks
And trust
Campfire ghosts
Washed in storms
Were bound to rebound
Off of dust covered
Tent pegs,
We are all just sounds
Droning faces
Frames cant catch
The sun
As it climaxes and scatters
In a thousand mirrors
Sprinkled in refunds
At the end of the rainbow
When tossed upon the sea
Slow down,
Pretty pictures
Are hard to steal
When sound
Stampedes past
In situations
Stuck in rejection
What a terrible tone
Trucks chomping children
With teeth of toothpicks
