broken from a cold sleep

almost mad
wrapped in this
deluxe and lonely fabric
it’s been too long
of a week
and sadly i have few words
to write
i don’t want to go
to work
and the weather is
always cold
my laundry is
piling up
and there’s an abstract temple
of dirty dishes on the counter
i haven’t showered in two days
and i feel
old as dirt
not the good dirt
the kind that plants thrive in
but dry dirt
dusty and overspent
all i want is
heathen dances
and a wicked promise
soft under a summer’s rain
something to satisfy
this failed experiment



Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *