Exhausted from being love poor
The Beatles were right
I have tried to be kind
Generous, honest, and vulnerable to
receive and give
The accounts that matter have been
barren
I am nearing the end of commerce
Head, numb, and teetering
Stomach cold, devouring itself
perversely plump
Blood thinning and passing out to
the alcohol
Toasting a yellow moon
Laughing, thinking about
Biting on some more lumber
Let me go, knock the consciousness
Bat that fucking skull!
Ignite the ant hill to the kerosene
soak
Legs afire until bankruptcy settles
the debt
Burn the pyre of no-talk days
Wrestling for something human
Knowing all I need
Is an evasive mutuality
Like God I am not sure exists
Faith, hope…
Love you’ve been up, struck out
swinging
Staring at blank bleachers since the
Good Morning
Where to go, damn stick is heavy
Put it down, let the grass takeover
Choke in the weeds like no one was
ever here
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