misery comes
knocking at the door
four in the morning
and she needs
company as the long
weekend fades into
another week of
repetition of the
same ingrained routines
that do nothing except
summon her wispy form

a bezoar of tarnished
razor wire spinning
ever faster in the
pit of my hollow
shredding tissue paper
organs in the plastic
torso of a semi sentient
partially poetic ever
failing sex doll

a malevolent cloud
of billowing chaos
fueled by anxieties and
a primal understanding
in my imbalanced brain
my safest place is
sobbing helplessly
into misery’s shoulder
a shuddering disaster
staring into the emptiness
reflected in the mirror
distorted through tears
into an infinite aching