kick the clock off your coffee table

Kick the clock off the coffee table
pretend you don't know the time
thoughts are scrambled but i want them
over easy
my recollections of happiness
they slide down
the pickle slides down the window
someone has the job of cleaning them up
wipe them clean for the next
leave them like a scar
when people walk by the window
i wonder if they see that pickle
do they?
*(inspired by waffle Hizzy)*
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serene, placid, droll, emphemeral
landscapes, dreamscapes, escapes
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is there something i miss, or i don't, that makes all the difference, some pickle sliding down on someones window, that i miss, that would help me to understand why, repent, reconcile and reform, in my mind, i want to conform, or conformity, if people all believed themselves to be altruists, would that mean harmony, if everyone believed themself, themselves to be selfish, would that mean harmony? If is the only thing is lIFe.
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the incentive to be happy is to be happy, or is it? or is it just to not be sad/mad/angry/lazy?
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i'm a parody of an everyday-day.
shining to bring light to subtle details,
the naunce of life.
the highlights make shadows for the true nuance of life, the cracks, corners, dusty indents that show just how much is overlooked, how much is really missed out, is it so trite the details to be ignored--for so many to say--they'll be there tomorrow--and forgotten today.
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When i open my eyes to tomorrow,
i'll think how meanlingless i am, how nothing in leaving for scheduled summer gym is really import--besides avoiding the bad consequences; and when i think this, there will be a feeling, almost overwhelming, to cry, to lament for the meaningless--malicious-- wastes of life. Even the thought of it shows a waste driving--how it can be.
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If i received a "goodnight, i love you" as night before i lay to sleep, could the soft sincerity make a significant difference--to my mood, attitude perspective, breath or emotion the morning.
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I'm not sure, absolutely, if moving to my dad's house would solve any problems; it certainly wouldn't help with my approach to my freedom from dependency. To resist my feelings, my painful fallacies, is for the Earth to resist it's turning, for me to resist my next cigarette; although it is possible, without some deep reformation is useless to try, but limiting my exposure to my mom and her irrational follies could save me emotional toil, not to mention further growth and enlightenment.