Thoughts Stuffed into a Redundant Wall

People often ask me if I’ve ever tried writing in any form other than “bad“.

No. No I have not.




Everyone looks so unsure how to make better use of their mouths —

These leaden silhouettes photoshopped over aged bodies

Slouched in the grotesque pose of aborted meat.


Choking back a mouthful of apathy;

They Spit ambitions at disinterested targets

While meandering through their shifting mistakes.


Where every aspiration ever aspired spurts from an artery in bursts of fractured light —

Staining the pallid corpse of the sun

Before it’s lost within an insipid pool of regurgitated vision.


So here I wade patiently for it all to end —

Alone in this muddled recess of time

Because staring at my phone is still more tolerable than talking to you.

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