by on June 28, 2023 :: 0 comments

devoid of art

piecing together the last night

from facebook posts
and twitter comments

more hangovers
than some have lived lives

i am too old to work like this
but i know no other way

this morning the wind
feels dangerous

and the air from the ocean
smells like dead fish

last night
the gods rained floods upon this land

and i just poured myself
another drink

too tired
too stupid to seek shelter

i stumbled off to bed instead

and into nightmares
of commerce and poetry

only to awaken into this now
before the sun

waiting on the muse


what in the fuck?
what in the actual fuck?

editors note:

What, indeed? – mhclay

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