It is another work day.
Cold curling winds
cover my exposed skin
dulling but not destroying
the rage that dwells within.

It is a dollar less than
the clichéd inkling
but still a little beast
stirs inside of me
spouting the lie
called jealousy.

As if such a love
could ever belong to me
as if the world
could ever appreciate
what I give each day.

The suitcase cracks
and little folds of red
slip between the two
holes in my head
bleeding out into the world that
spawned those stained shirts.

The solar flare
surges here
and subsides over there.
The anger fades
as does the day
becoming a lonely and cool
nights remembrance
barely imprinted
upon my once again
preoccupied brain.