sleepy synthesizers
tickle fickle tinnitus
the old man sits
smoking outside
coughing in time
to the liquid sloshing
birds tap at the door
bits of yarn and
shiny metal to bring
peace to a nest disturbed

the sand flows upward
filling the glass bulb
in the top of the hourglass
suffocating thoughts
into a roundabout with
no defined exits

she smiles like a bridge
on the verge of collapse
teetering towards tears
even as the flesh contorts
pulled tight like a
cigarette scored drumhead
highlighting the glow
in her deadlight gaze
she jerks and spasms on
bloody toes to the beat
playing in tinny distortion
from the metal plate over
her divorced reality

the coffee maker hisses
an anemic air of despair
while joy suns itself
in the cold heart of dismay