the forest of thorns
drags across
the tender flesh
dripping poisons
that sizzle
upon
the brown grass
of tepid longing
infecting those
that stumble blindly
through the hellshit
of awakening
to rail against
the light of reality
piercing the hangover
of last night’s
reverie
celebrating
the end
of one bastard day
to begin the next
in quick succession
a revelation
of revulsion
a reckoning
of recompense
all while muttering softly

this is not the life i chose