Wake up. Dull bulb flickers fluorescent.
Mind on again. Down the stairs. Bathroom Mirror.
Clothes on again. Can I do this again?
Unpaid. Pinstripe red. Overtime.
My fingers are cold and my lips are dry.
Did I leave the lights on? Do I remember?
Recession to collapse.
I stare at myself in the reflection.
One last primal thought. DSM-5.
I imagine famine & the blood of others.
Ants that dance in the sand.
Suns hands pushing and pulling
The last beads of moisture I’ve saved.
The mouth of the people.
The mouth that gulps humans.
Weak. Infinite. Incomplete.
Brittleness; a transformation that will never happen.
Waiting for an ancient god that does not exist.
Things missing. Things you remember. Withdrawal.
“It’s the food they offered you.
It’s subversive, it’s treacherous,
And it does not mean life.”