i try not
to think about
the fine grit
blowing as if
a kiss sent
by autumnal zephyrs
just to relish
the touch upon
my deformed face
eyes closed
pretending that
this vacancy is
affection sent
to soothe my
tattered soul

the particulates
sting my cheeks
my eyes water as
tears stream
unchecked over
these worthless lips
yet i do not want
to consider the why
of the constantly
blowing sands

staring out
over the precipice
as the people
begin stirring
sleepily awakening
to embrace loved ones
making breakfast
finding the resolve
to face the day

i try not to scoff
to bark harsh laughter
at the futility
there is no hope
no chance of
better tomorrows
because today’s
tomorrow is just
a nightmare best
left undreamt
yesterday is a corpse
spewing maggots
to slowly consume
the minutes away
and now feels so
fucking tender and raw
i fear existence
is just repeating
today into the grave
a series of disasters
strung together
with no relief from
the grit ever blowing

i try not
to think at all
seeking small pleasures
in the sandstorm
mindlessly stomping
maggots to paste
trapped in now
alone with sorrow
any sense of value
a placeholder for truth
that in decay is
the only place
i truly have any
real significance

the sirens wail
somewhere out there
someone else is
having an epiphany
realizing no matter
how we coach things
they only get worse
muttering prayers
cursing the indifference
life is a hell
we carefully craft
dreams are the barbs
we use
to torture ourselves
self flagellating
with the insipidness
born of desperation
tomorrow has to be
a brighter day
only to realize
when we rise again
all there is this
never changing state
of right goddamned now

i know exactly
what that grit is
yet i refuse
to say it by name
a juvenile attempt
at screaming fuck you
into the abyss

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