angels are bastards, the moon remains aloof

this couch is
i sit pensive
swatting at
these insipid
little angels
as they circle
my head with
unblinking eyes
four pair of wings
flaming halos
singing my beard
when they get
too close to me

my ceiling is
my neighbor’s
dance hall
the dulcet tones
of a yelping dog
keep time with
the clumsy steps
staring out at
a tallow moon
alone in this
disquieting fog
listlessly staring
at the flashing
cursor cursing me
to continue writing

i am a koi trapped in this murky pond, trained to wallow on top of my fellow carp for the scraps of bread tossed by disinterested travelers that yearn to feel above something, to be a benevolent god for a brief moment, vefore stumbling tiredly back into whatever subterranean lair they call home

it would be
peaceful if
the cars
the planes
the people
the animals
the breeze
the alarms
the everything
if these goddamned
angels would stop
bemoaning existence
if the lavender flashes
stopped going off

this couch has grown
but if i go to bed
i know i won’t sleep
so i swat absently
wisps of smoke rising
from my beard as i
scowl dispassionately
at the pale moon

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