kind of pointless

having a stuffed nose
and 80's pop forced on me
is a bit like having
a midget kick me in the nuts
and then point his laughing
stubby arms at me on the ground,
rolling in the pain
that already existed in my head;
i feel like reading sylvia plath
or listening to fiona apple
on a merry-go-round
looking for the damned children
and damned parents
who believe the damned angels
are more than a thought
riding snugly in the red convertible
just side to the unicorn.
it's a good wish to have,
but not much exists outside
of this.