Awake—
6:30 am,
void of dawn…
“Eject…”
My stomach
feels dead empty.
Twisted with
rotten maggots—
“Flip…”
So sick,
I wanna throw up.
“Play…”

It’s the same day,
taking sane,
numbed pills,
looking at killed memories,
once felt with heartfelt souls.
Lost voice recordings
warp in my insane,
static head of a
cassette tape—
Rewinding on my
Dead Day.
Yet one silent morning,
the tape stops…