lonely echoes

run the rusted blade
along my chest
let the crimson well
until red drips
to stain the carpet
in rorscarch dementias
proclaiming the story
of a lost soul seeking
succor in the emptiness

i sidestep civility
tiptoeing through
shards of broken glass
in circumspect attempts
at noble indifference
squeezing between
metaphorical redundancies
with the ease of a
quadriplegic ballerina
on day three of
heroin withdrawals

the world is an ashtray
where we grind out
the embers of hope
into the greasy ashes of
yesterday’s folly
with a careless indignation
tracking muddy prints
throughout the scene of
another unreported crime

slice me open
let loose the canary
dizzy from the fumes
crack the ivory cage
let it fly free
only to crash
headfirst into the first
plate glass window
each hollow bone
pulverized in the last
fleeting throes of
unchained splendor
just to be forgotten
a flaccid feast for
the insolent maggots
long since bled dry
in the foolish pursuit
of tomorrow’s disaster

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