in the morning…

an ounce of requited desire defers to the 6:45am sun, fingers tired from the night before when it was decidedly undecided on dinner. relinquishing the feed, cattle hearing. but that’s beside the point. a mockery maid to clean up the silence.

“who are you living for?”

who are you living for?

who are you living for?

what have you done?

and arm and a leg for breakfast, forgetting the seeds in the water. giving head, un-returned. smashing the symptoms into ironing boards of guilt, steady shelves allowing the fat to run its course. veins thick with steam, unfiltered. gadgets of pride. stages of a confused sun. hearing Dionysus cry, tears empty from all the drugs.

even the fractions couldn’t resolve. sectional maps. the pigments too dirtied with the dust of self-loathing. hot beds of lies to burn the dreams. into heights of flames un-ridden. i can’t calculate the conquest. tourniquet signs. advocated leans. baffled at the bleeding but unable to breathe. hearing shots fired. a hand still shaking.

“you went there?”


i won’t write for you anymore. time to turn the gun and fire out the lines that take me to a place where the weight of my back finds




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