Skip to main content

A Day in the Life of Nothing

Impatient mother scowls sourly at her children
and scolds her husband, silent and seemingly dull,
with wide soft eyes, for being a lazy ass.

Their youngest daughter of four, bobbing
her giant head with an amber green stare,
smiles shyly at me in a shopping cart full
of children, doughnuts, and diet Pepsi.

It's 8:49 AM.

Sleeping in a parking lot after another
pulsating never ending night of nodding
off for fifteen-dollars an hour, a woman
clearly Tlingit, clearly drunk, and clearly
lonely, asks over and over again "Aren't you
coming with me?" There's no response.

It's 1:37 PM.

Steady clicking, pecking irregular bird,
chattering confounding words, for future
comas to come, eyes dry, brain heavy sack
of fluid and distress, "documentation's
for the birds," I say.

It's 4:49 PM

A day has passed and I am ready for a beer.

It's 5:54 PM

Cheers.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Thunder of David #68: In the Fifth Tone

No longer let our voices fall to a whispering march of death. Jam your baritones and inflections through songs for a god gone dead Make the earth shudder under your footsteps as you let the wind take the pages like a flickering flame Make your presence known through the howling sleet and rain - scream in the faces of distorted kings, spit on their robes and shit in their eyes Cast your fury like the waves and witness the smoke of god vanish in the shadow of a cat, feast upon the words that wither like the grass Smear the self indulgent prophets in sweat and mud, drown the child of the Euphrates and piss on his holy stone Go horse in your burning wrath, sodomize wretched Isaiah, suffocate him in the wallowing tears of Job, let the blood of your hatred flow like wine Drink of your consummate supplication steeped in rage and disgust. Let it sustain you to shake the pillars and columns of his temple to the ground Dictate your commands and bask in the boundless power your existence brings t...
1 comment
Read more

Inside

"There's a chaos inside that 'll not die down." Unsteady gale wind whips at hair rips souls from their bones leaving corpses of naked bodies curled and crying, wet and muddy Blackness, sound of breathing a scream that wallows, tares from the intestines spewing brown bile, lead heavy words "You'll not drown in a wake of your own making." Shoving gravel through eye sockets, dreading tomorrow caught in a web of mucus, rotting tobacco leaves, dust of glass sprinkled on tongues Empty bottles of fire sing heavy somber tunes, tumbling off the end of the earth, cutting the heads of goddesses bathing in the stars "Turmoil inside suffocates tomorrow and the next." "I know."
Post a Comment
Read more

A Recent Development

If you were a dandelion flower how would you wilt? like all the rest? Fragile and weak, lost in these words A confusing prison mistaken for freedom Quick sex of spring brings freedom To these shivering acres of flowers dribble their seed on concrete prison floors. Caught in the wind, they'll wilt And wallow, with hard worthless words Stuck in a structure so fragile What feeds this pitiful fragile Growth? A sad hope towards freedom Where no one rules but your words? Has no one told you? You're a flower. Beautiful but brief. You'll wilt Like the rest. A cycle, called prison! We'll live and die in this prison. Together, inseparable and fragile Til the end. Here's where souls wilt Into each other. Passing this freedom Onto the next bright yellow flower They'll scoff at the seeds of our words Begging and searching for the right words, They'll whore themselves out for a prison Wet with dew, sprouting a different flower. The soil's all the same. Give into fragi...
Post a Comment
Read more