the kids
are gone, so the mask
is off, hanging
off a hook
by my keys
until morning
too aware
i am slipping
glitching
my consciousness
a grain of sand
falling
from my ear
jolts of lavender
crash my pangean soul

if my heart
would cease the infernal
fucking beating of
a dead fool
i could sleep
without dream
the last shreds
of hope lost in the
microplastics
pollutin’ this
rootin’ tootin’
brain dead son of a bitch

does anyone else
hear the constant screams
static crashing along
cardial nerves
a frayed knot
quixotically
unafraid
charging heartfirst
into every hurdle
hurtling myself
against the shore
begging for something
more in a tarnished hell
of dwindling returns

there’s neither enough
liquor nor lacquer
to pretty up this pig
so i cut off pieces
and let you find beauty
in the rorscharch delirium
of bleeding out to
an apathetic audience
of mimes trapped in
tragedies of their own mind

twitching in
a myopic dystopia of
chemical imbalances
verging on the obscene
hideously scarred
self tarred and featureless
hanging myself from
the stars which never
once shined for
automatons masquerading
amongst the humans