self image over morning tea
and an empty stomach
losing the plot
losing the meaning
i am discussing things
i never thought i would
shackled to uncomfortable chairs
uncomfortable livelihoods
and a city with smoke and shattered glass,
and pigeons smeared on the sidewalk.
i cannot commune with nature
this long winter
i cannot pick out all the individual
instruments
of this sad overture
but just know that combined
they all make a horrible clatter
that i have to cover over each night
with drink after drink
and thoughts that suddenly trail off.
i am so silly.
such a fool.
derailed.
i am such a goddamned dunce
and nuisance to myself
that i’d be better off if i up
and quit me.
but i can’t let you go baby
and you know that to be true
so just give me time
give me a little space
let me rub out the blur
on the mirror, spit out the blood
from the gums
and let the dandruff fall on another sleeve
as the garbage waits to go out
another night
and the antacid pills do their magic
let this cry for help fall hollow
and pretty soon
you and i
will all be doing a little waltz
into the arms of another devil
with a smiling face and warm handshake.
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