By Alexa Poli
these fiery birds of prey
steal my life in pieces
i’ve become disjointed,
undone.
foul hands washed in salt water.
breathe the polluted air,
suck it in
fill my lungs
with the waste of other’s breaths.
the bag will heal me
or the bag will steal me.
there’s nothing left,
to wonder.
walk through the gutter
one night
alone
see how it feels,
at an animal level.
Rorsach tests
on bathroom walls.
tell me miss,
what do you see?
besides a liar, cheat and thief?
do you run with me?
do you feel the dirt?
smell the shit?
everything that’s trapped between
layers of filth.
there’s no romance here
everything peels. and like an onion,
makes you cry in the end.
everyone is human,
unfortunately for man.
there’s nothing left in the bottle,
there’s nothing left in my hands.
do you know me?
i carry the american express card.
i buy disaster
and pay in installments
each one more
than the one before.
i pay a premium
for luxuries i don’t have,
i pay interest
on my own sin.
maybe a buck,
soaking wet.
cause I’m not fat,
i’m big boned,
ya understand.
no one walks with me,
no one guides my hand
when i lift the gun to my head,
pull the trigger and fire.
pin hits an empty chamber
and i buy another day of emptyness.
i am hollow,
i am all core
i can cry all i want,
but the tears never come.
i wasted everything
i never had.
