the
sea of my synapses
is
surging with silence
i
listen to sarah jaffe
drink
feel
nothing
link
together cigarettes
in
a chain of boredom
i
want to write about
hearing
her heartbeat
my
head on her chest
in
a quiet quilted bed
but
i like to write about
things
i actually experience
and
not about things of which
i
only gather from echoes in the wind
poems
which are disingenuous
are
stillborn
i
delete from my mp3 anything
that’s
not a soft downward spiral
find
a long version of archive’s
“again”
and spin
the
top off my bottle
twist
the top back on tighter
feel
a little lighter
well,
enough to choose
“cars
hiss by my window”
by
the doors
which
reminds me of my place
which
i’m just going to head back to
***
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