disgusted except in absentia
just what I came ‘cept I can’t quite get doing
the waking, each hour, an anguish
put up and shut up, the both go together
while steaming tea brews in my face
scratch and scrub, endure the vileness
pests of every kind
Tag: face
sketch: an old coin
sketch: this is something the jackal knows
sketch: the chickens are piloting
sketch: too hungover to look
poem: faced with faces, turned-down corners,
faced with faces, turned-down corners,
beauty more or less all skinny; deep
and if we press on further, well who knows what?
we might just keep onto it ’til we’re dead
or bored
or something in between
a needle on the dial that I watch
poem: pain in each heel, never a face
pain in each heel, never a face
teeth are too yellow & bent
shoulders are slouching and I’m often glowering
this is what you’ve come to hear?
