I am a Button

I am convinced that this is what I have not been called before.
However, I will be me and you can press lightly on your forehead for a day.
The Picnic, I enjoyed the most.
I swear I was expecting it.
After all, we are like water only.
Sliding gracefully through the cracks just like the living dead.

...I will heal your thirst.
I will be like the whole of you.

I am the king of thieves to steal your sobs and I will etch into all of you.
I have you sitting in your chair, dining like a pig.
I am the great, grand dragon of the garden gates.
Disguised as a salamander for your convenience.
Standing in front of you with lots and lots of knives.
I want to live in a wallpaper of your misfortune.
Wrenching between the bars of golden snakes twisting your humerus.

There is beauty like this in the relationship upturned.
Cloth or silken moth devouring.
They hang like a woman lamenting.
Her husband has been swallowed by the monster of the sea.
In broken windows of your souls.

Rather than before, not after.
It will eat your children.

The softness is a cushion of warmth in the back of your chair.
I can cry at the shame of one hundred dead guard dogs.
When Violets are selling themselves cheaply it is not for crying.
Being held is on the line, lying side by side since the blood is out of the bottle, thick as jam
Save me from the milky goodness of who is in this frigid press.
I have saved you, drowned you in sticks, thrown you to the bottom of the sea.
And yet you walk among us, there to steal our very souls,
We will be forever postponed as Romeo and Juliet.

Making music from the back of a whimsical beached whale,
The kaleidoscope of the boat is blinking silently overhead.
I am a button.

(This is a google translate created parody poem)