where
is your fire
your passion
your sense of
wonder

stuck
to the bottom
of her bare foot
in ashen footsteps
that lead

anywhere
but here

do you think
i control this
that
i control anything

that i can
assert my will
to enforce change
on this
world of miserable half-truths

i am not
a monkey
flinging shit
against the walls
for your

amusement

i am in pain
nude
in a tornado of
broken glass

just be happy
the blood splatters the page
in something less
than primal rage
and
sobbing

there is
a romantic streak
a mile wide
down my corpse
from where the eighteen wheeler
dragged it
down
the loose gravel of unraveling
in front
of a captive audience

of none.