you smoke wheat
in your tiny bedroom
sipping on diet schweppes
next to me passing me the zoot
considering the ensure
reading verse
skimming books
source of inspiration
never quite gets an inning
i am feeling – i am feeling
but it’s only images of a good day
tainted with truncation
and small lies
our dry eyes meet but i don’t feel the heat
i am accustomed to
there goes continuum in double
rainbows in the rancid air
hung low it splits the ceiling
into its strangled fist
i cannot let you down
only mist
deters me from the needle in the hay
i stub the cigarette and lay
myself down at your holy feet
let me beat you
i plead
and you turn your cold shoulders
into the window, down the street ur hanging by a flashlight
watching me
until we are in different
time zones
|Eaten| 2019