la vida es una desilusion,
a cigarette burn on the tongue
raw taste buds so dull you can’t even feel your husband in your mouth
or the aftertaste of ancient oil paint (20 years ago)
that you keep in the gaps where your wisdom teeth used to be
a midnight snack of remembering,
a band-aid for the **** that nicotine abandonment made in you-
carved all the way down to your ***,
angry as a beast, as a midlife crisis,
still hung-over from the past ten years staring out these prison red windows

life is an illusion, a recollection of a painting
life is a city street that these wired eyes can make no sense of at all