Humans with computers,
Alive, thriving, holding onto
Love again, or, backspines and
Broken, knives, trying to
Understand broken knees.
Nothing illuminated, deadpan
lifting lungs, a permanent stain
Blackening self-sung songs,
masculine, maybe, and the imposed
hum of darkened lulls of stained
Early October faded memory.
Cascade and collect; the unanswered
voices. Recollect as they hope and
they hurt. Plan for the summer –
The catcalls in foreboding winds.
Try, if you will, goddamn, god is
damned alive, searching like
a prophet, on wall st living on
peanut butter, like the other 99
percent of us, while we survive,
with jetplanes, laughing at birds
on the wings of our cardboard homes.
Deadend dayjobs, jutted between, sober
Days; currently damned. Questioning
daydreams, unalive and unwell.
Please tell us: can a god
Live in such an environment?
Tonight, I am drunk, warm.
And my cat is snoring.