even the birds seem static

red hot needles
through my guts
grafted inside
my skull
another day
without the sun
every whisper
feels ominous
filled with
rusted hooks
slowly dissolving
packets of poison
in turgid flows
unpoetic apathies
sludge and muck
fill rubber tubes
on the steel grate
over this
steam powered heart.

i don’t know
what day it is
just that it is
another day
in the darkness
puking bile
onto the dayglow
painted streets
and trying to get

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s