My Dendrites Been Up fer Nights

and random fibroblasts haunt the forecast . . .

Image by Adrian Campfield from Pixabay

Friends wondering if I have moved on
I took a moment to macramé my axons
some done got a chewed-up groove on
fissures not a durn-bit improved upon.

I can feel your eyes devour my flank
your gaze as ruthless as a stinging spank
peels me right down like a craven skank
when you fill up my void, I draw a blank.

October is leaving on her honeymoon
another tart sashays a pumpkin cartoon
the crescent moon is my cortex festoon
a lemony thorned horizon harpoon.

I know what I know and you are sweet
avalanche turns restraint into mincemeat
your deep fissure rumble is my drumbeat
here’s to you fingering fluent Marguerite.

Who knew the contortions I could do
with my paltry dendrites good as new
sorry ‘bout the last decade of boo-hoo
down the drain in a swirl of shampoo.