Disappointed in delivery speeds we wait
for packages from people we will never meet
or even spare the slightest word for.
The worst in other people makes us worry
for the darkness in ourselves and all the pressure
from the daily talk is like a walk across
a beach without a tide.
Pop up advertisements make the case for things
we think we want like we are haunted by the objects
in the catalog. Whatever happened to Monday night
beer cans crushed one time before being tossed out
like a house guest without a care who they piss off
with all their talking? I think the nightly fog was put here
just for them walking home without the punishment
of seeing themselves reflected in the pavement.
I don’t chase anything as it currently stands
beyond these lines that I define like I am shaving
definition into the face of something I don’t understand.
What is the air like on the outside where the seasons
are reminders that our time is falling short
and every last one of us here is just a part of something larger
taking turns with every new unseen catastrophe.
I want to bleed only to forget about the pain because the work
that I am bound to is so fantastic I just cannot look away.
The pale trees on the roadside blur like crumpled paper
from the speed that I am passing them.
The car is barely running and the station I am hearing
is just a repeat of a broadcast from the past.
The condescension of the greats just says to live out what you are,
and that would maybe be the answer if I could recognize myself
for what I am.