in this waterfall of human decay
as you sit at home now
with your husband
your house payment
your cats and
your cable bill.
your two car garage
maybe even a nice flat screen TV
a leather couch and some video games
A/C and food in the frig
all the divine, creature comforts that divorce us from reality.
in and out
up and down
and I hang for a moment and think …
of junkies, dark alleyways, and whiskey warm.
Where am I?
in a cracked mirror
in a old photograph
in a dark tunnel with a lonely tune to whistle
choking on the dust of discarded things.
and I pray
and I imagine
and I dream
all these things
that are made up of unreality and intangibility’s.
It’s safe to say
that I cannot commit to all those
everyday atrocities normal people succumb to.
I want the vision bathed in fantasy and possibility
I want the love
the razor blade
everything that makes it cut deep.
Where beer meets the light of day
in your arms alone in a cheap motel room
with all the other bullshit of our lives
constricted, killed, and swallowed
I have felt the best I have ever felt ...
A poem about a poem
a nameless women
just mine for a moment
the dusty shades pulled open
a kiss in the afternoon sun
and the credits rolling gently down the screen.