Nothing is real anymore.
The reality fizzes out like soap suds on the tub
The decisions draining out
In the whirlpool of water while the
Locked door shakes with
The insistent effort of breaking my hiatus
Under the incessant tears of the faucet
That seems to gain a grotesque
Pleasure of out doing what
I couldn’t do, cry
And I avenge their lacrymal fertility
By letting the water drain
Away from my skin
Like unworthy raindrops
That don’t make it home under the boot.
Opposing thumbs, a matter of
Pride, and competence, if
And what is excusable
Under the influence, and how far
Can I take without
Fitting an I on a life that
Is a conglomeration of we
Sleep weaves blankets over my eyelids,
Through the gauze I trace shapes in the
Forms of words
And symbols that must mean
Something, anything yet
They’re not reflecting the inside
The rawness of atrial contraction, the
Blood churning and frothing
The words,
The words mean nothing they’re
Nonsense rhymes with a thought
That has disappeared with the slow moving
Hurt that stitches in and out of my skin
Bursting the layers of
Apathy.
A liar's den 