Existentially
I.
That is the rain; or first step,
Breathing through agony & pills.
See \ myself withered and dusty,
Before I look…what’s next?
No god or awakening,
Or reunion.
No breaths or cigarettes,
Or touch,
Strange air…my mind blooms
In wet cardboard box,
That will eventually just eat itself.
And then what?
And then What?
II.
The prophets are in the desert,
I am in the desert / among fools
With their smudged aces.
Starless trenches of mountainous heat,
Horizon bleeding trinity of color /
Between
Squinting eyes and silhouettes,
Dense air, hanging like smoke
Between notes in a wailing chorus.
Whiskey feet against microscopic stones,
Dancing wildly,
The abandoned steel and flesh
Roasting for perfection,
In praise to emptiness and hunger.
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