On Friday,

I am rusting, crumbling, like a folding chair

all consuming and being devoured at the same time,

like a folding chair,

to become inordinate, inanimate and into deafening silence all at once.

For my sake and yours, I can establish my position,

my deafening silence,

which is seated in a folding chair, arms folded,

resisting me and mine.

Seated in the chair closest to the cake and the sprinkles and the rest of the colors and napkins and other

party favors,

its someone’s birthday, somewhere,

careful, just a bit closer and ill be in the fireplace at this point,

I’m here, but someone else is gone, probably.

I am distant, and still trying to reach you,

to redirect, to contort and to confront,,,,

let me sing to you and stumble through my words,

thanks for stumbling with me.

I have noticed the birds get bigger with each passing day, and eventually carrion wont be enough.

eventuallythespacebarwontbeenough,

happy birthday wont be enough.

I know just a few flavors species of flowering plants,

but to know more would be pretentious, and the streaks of light are just as invasive as the movies they are reviewing,

and I know that,

I know that.

Like the plants and the streaks of light, and the biting movie reviews,

I am invasive, too.