and no more to do.
No places to go to
no songs to sing.
Just the cold
damp coffin.
Just the hole in the ground
where my body decomposes.
No wine to taste
no salty skin to lick
no mountain to climb
no life to live.
It's over, slowly
it's all over
this life
as tasteless as canned food.
I lay motionless
on a cardboard box at the bus station
same as on a king size bed
at the Westin, downtown,
like a lukewarm fuck.
All this effort
this road
these hardships
airports and passports
only to take a wrong turn
knowingly.
All this time
all this blood
all this work
paid back in sleepless nights.
All this anger
all this hate
and all this worthless love.
Always getting up
to fight again
to try once more
one last ditch effort
one last shot
like a blind man
pretending to see your colors
looking through broken kaleidoscopes.
