Bathe in that city of yours
In its eternal darkness, and rotted fruit vines
The juice, or blood, draining itself out of you…
I am better off watching from the rim of cataclystic bombast.
Nerves and pit-stains
Yeah, I want to be a needless cog in your unrepenting wheel
The blasted machine spits you out at 65
Hardly maintaining the family,you created, festooned, and drove away…
Until you are so disjointed
You find yourself in a gentrified neighborhood
Dazed… Clapping at marathon runners you don’t know
Till you are some missing persons poster,
Found face down in that puddle with the earth’s icy hand slowly stroking your back
No identification needed,
We all know.

Catered Affairs

The houses are haunted and flammable,
Move to a new part of town
A natural bit of peace is unattainable in a place like this
They tip their hats,
I snicker on the street
A bill fold that is giving off sparks
In the adjacent pocket… Every losing ticket from the day
On the train I laugh to myself,
There’s me at the dinner table
With the phantoms,
In our flame retardant suits
Discussing the minutes of our last meeting.