hey, I'm
seeing spiders &
shadows & lights again &
there comes a point
in your life when
you realize
it's all this forced speech
about how
the weather is fine &
no one has died
that shouldn't have.
it's like sitting
in an unfamiliar bathtub
til the water goes cold,
knowingly just floating
in frosty clouds of your own filth,
that sick type of epiphany
that we're all just sad little
feeder fishes painted gold
that live to eat shit fuck float
get old go blind become senile
then hopefully die
before anything too terrible happens.
happy ends.
unlikely.
high noon &
the horse flies are biting,
for the life of me.
if you find yourself dead
or alive.
they'll pay you for perfect timing.
so smile sunshine
the drain hasn't
swallowed you yet.
no problem no sweat.