Lollipops

I thought.
My thoughts.
Blue thoughts
soon brought
tear drops
salty falling lollipops
belly flops
spinning tops
drop and stop
flip and flop
sweep and mop
cleaning up
twisted shards of
sweet-tasting glass
cutting, piercing
trying to pass
through pink esophagus
and my blue virgin
blood-filled sash.
Malice and scandal crash
over a naked cache
concealing all but my past
and the mass of inadequacies and rash
decisions I rehash,
abashed
[ly]. And with a crash,
like cymbals smashed,
what mattered then,
now turns to ash.