white picket fucked

this cinched
through ground
teeth taught
jaw, some

stripped gear, bum
nerve and no
bouquet in a
set of
stronger hands

his wife and her
man and a half empty
nest, broken bailing
backward,
white picket fucked

and the dream man:
wretched and whiskey
whittled, what depths
have you to see

in the wounds you wreak?

shut the fuck up.

red sheets

take this bloated
body, freshly afloat
bruised violet bloomed
belly up, you bet against this
day.

did my feet between your
knuckles tickle?
thought you could
toss flick me to
sea, see if i would
float-didn't settle
soft,

serve me in
cork, swaddled soft, red
sheets, make sure i look
off
olive.

fibre-optimism

fibre-optimism uhflowin from muh

heed, mah hee yed, daytuh

tumblin, tossin dawn frm to tha

burd i choked i skwashed his lil

neck but wha wha is it ahyou

send me to muh room

wah you mayk me turn

rownd all fas qwik so mah

heed goes brite so i kin see

wen mah eyes is closd?

stupid, bright

cinched tight-tucked a

cigarette butt in my

pipes,

i sing to the

milky way, slung

non-dairy creamer;

a miracle a

mess.

cough on the

bones and clocks clicking

cracking round my

cords.

what's left for me here?

cold, debts and fear.

you're half a world away

and i'm scratching at the sky.

what's left for me here?

i will this world away.