Skulduggery

A taxi cab, and I, wilting
in the black vinyl seat, torn,
wasting away, like a corpse
not yet discovered,
one day gone, feasting
on the fumes of the hatter,
dripping yellow glue on my
tongue,
Ah, the sickness of this city,
we've all been sorted,
like tasty little candies,
unaware of the children, with
grubby sausage hands, grasping
to expose us to the heavens,
tearing and tossing us into the
sky like the green grass,
only to settle again on the
fragments of a pure mind
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