“I feel like…”
a fuck
moron
standing
in the parking
lot
at 1:12 pm on
my lunch
break smoking,
remembering
something I
wrote and things
thought,
finding a strange
mood about it.
my body feels
funk
neglected to
shave
tips of fishing
line
break through
flesh on my face
I can’t hide
the glazy film
congealed soup
skin
over my being
but
by accepting it
I find courage
to sift through
the voices
most of them
salesman
except one
who says,
“You got 4
hours left
time only drags
forward
get home
and vegetate”
he’s brilliant!
we both agree
to rest
up before
destroying
ourselves.
