switzerland/sisyphus

pink disaster/garbage can

black plastic trash bags

stomped out and cashed

cigarettes/fags;

crumpled dirty dollar bills-

ant hills (containing fire
ants) morphing

into molehills;

you are so not/so far from
(being or becoming)
'switzerland'-

my heart is a broken, foreign land
like siberia (where the russians
send their criminals

for grueling, strenuous
physical labour)

covered in snow; buckets and
buckets full of it-

all of our problems come
tumbling down the slope
of our molehill turned
mountain;

snowballing- picking up more
and more conundrums/issues/
difficulties as it picks
up speed/

comes rolling full-speed,

plummeting from the peak
towards the base of this
mountain- then!

just in the 'nick of time' sisyphus
emerges to create a diversion

then begins pushing
all of our b.s.
back up

the side of this molehill-mountain;
when will it ever end?

and, more important(ly), what is
for breakfast?