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.