Wednesday, July 30

wednesday silence



the days are rags stretched out before me

tapestry of discarded fineries

and his teeth—his teeth are bared

eyes leering up at me from where he bites her neck

i wonder idly what composes broken men

what are the contours we could thus describe

a nightmare forms around the words

now you know how it feels—i do, i do

i already did but this fresh cut burns deep;

what is the line between cowering and cows

and what’s a steer to all those stallions?

every second closes up the pasture into pens

and days loom heavy dull and dangerous overhead

—all of it in dark neuroses, imagined hells

the look, the eyes, her frigid voice

only tantalizing unexistance

a thing to mourn in happy times

when i am sad but don’t know why



9/17/23

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