Another fucking holiday three-day
weekend
The code of make plans, make plans,
got plans;
What are you going to do with this
freedom? 
Like a god-damn mirror 
Too bright, too bright 
Reflections of other times 
Look how young we were 
Skinny in the picture 
Crawfish boil right before the
hurricane 
Rabbit hole descend with the roots
and pretend 
The turnips and the onions still
grow down there 
Gnarled in the fallow dirt 
Glorious spiraling into the maw of
self 
Teeth chew obsessive compulsive
focus 
Blocking the world and exacerbating
madness 
Mayhem of depressive lust for the
numb oblivion 
Seeing what is wanted a galactic
distance away 
Not graspable in this life, this
body
Succumbed to acceptance that this
face is not meant 
For an atmosphere of oxygen 
Alien on the wrong planet 
Of ants urinating on calendars of
feces pile Labor Days 
Christmas and Independence fireworks
The glare is sheening vomit 
Too much agreement that the alcohol
helps 
Give me some more maybe I can’t tell
yet 
Universe help me, I just thought
about waking up again tomorrow 
I need some nice for a while, just
some nice 
Give me a ride if you might; these
two dollar shoes hurt my feet 
Praying on this dusty road 
No comments:
Post a Comment