it’s been three days and
I still haven’t figured out
how to beat this

i’m dying in this cold
coughing up razor blades
and sleeping too long

I can’t write today
and the world is slipping by
on a broken back

just give me three lines,
some vainglorious inspiration
to keep me going

tired
solitary
white

how many nights must I endure
sleep on stale pillows
till the dawn claims me

morning comes early and unwanted
disturbed and hungry
waking up just isn’t the same anymore

a broken arm is so silent
in the early hours
it’s days like this that
make me want to quit

Roger Waters is on the radio
singing about sunrises and suicides
and I’m sitting here late
sipping watered down coffee
it’s 1984 all over again

waiting for the storm on
deflated tires that
can only carry you so far

at noon there are
half hidden malls
and empty coffee shops

with old women sitting around
watching false news and
offering opinions that don’t matter

everyone was watching, then
the tall man bought me a beer
and told me to let it all go

smiling I said “I crave the loud, abrasive
sonic assault on my senses, to stir my blood
before the quiet comes”

Laughing he said “we fight all those things
that we know are
right
lost to the illusion of
independence
faded signs,crooked lines
and dead trees”

a barrage of uncensored information
ignites creativity
or so they say, and
\in the digital age words are
false popularity feeding
the great deceiver