#whitlock
Jigsaw
by J.M. Romig, Amanda Whitlock, and Ryan P. Kinney
The first time I watched a man die
It wasn’t a man anymore, they told me
Just like my mother wasn’t my mother anymore
I will never forget the wrong answer
And the empty hours
When the minute hand was always longer
I often welcome sleepwalking through most of the week
In the few instances the machines malfunction
I curse being awakened
I don’t see how anyone
Can smoke at a time like this
When the air is so heavy
It’s like breathing cement
I’m in stressed and panicked misery
And I’m vomiting
Lots and lots of stuff
That stretches vast
And expands to eat up everything
The guilt of my sin
The heft of your innocence
Weighs heavily on my soul
As i drag you down with me
Her lit cigarette burns
So brightly from the porch
Against the darkness
It reminds me of a lighthouse
Or a bug zapper
And what is that moth doing there anyways?
People are trying to sleep
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 1:24 PM UTC