sunrise on decrepit sorrow

a lone bird
calls out
to the rising sun
a bottle
loud as the
tentative fingers
of light
carve away
the night

for a moment
the affection
drawn upon
the cratered moon
is palpable
the dead satellite
shines with
stolen light
and i smile
far too well
exhibiting beauty
from an
external source
knowing that
ugliness is all
i will ever

the lone bird
calls out
as the coffee drips
and i cannot
for the life of me
recall what day it is
or the last time
i managed to
string more than
four hours of sleep

am i
the moon
or the bird
an insipid fool
pining for
a life
i do not deserve
in a land
of hazy

Leave a Reply

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

You are commenting using your 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