Nearing the cusp of dawn
an armor of pain-killers
in a really nice box
and all the thoughts
i never thought
for once
would drizzle on my
conscience - are weighing
me down.

I hold my breath
as the bright ink
spells out, All I've done
wrong.

Sometimes, I wonder -
I ponder
I get lost on a route
of monstrous trucks.

I sweat, I fret
I dedicate, I *******
I pretend, as I burn
the tender cells of
my guilt-ridden lungs.

What if, I couldn't feel -
like a can of condensed air
where all the frigid molecules.
what if, i would
explode as I breathe
as i open my eyes
from a sleepless sleep -
as i inhale this fluid town.
in my being
in the bones of my core.

What if a ***** of a
pick
on the surface of
my existence
would facilitate a pathway
to my fantastic salvation.

what if the screws and the brooms
and the dust on my shoes
and the sparkle atop of these
dainty prayers.

what if the gloom
and the drones and the discomfort
of silence

were all my belongings
were all my wealth

what if the last Drop of color
in this tube was my heaven.

what if the last stain
on this glass
was my truth --