Joy lights a cigarette and slumps into the mire, glory feeds a smile that crawls along the cheeks disembarks and slips down the chin, slithering further until feet kissed and maddening wails buckle knees to prayer.
Mirror epitaph, sly fucker – bricks for lunch and you thought you would live forever.
Lukewarm isolation begs forgetful tears hurry to hide the evidence before it’s reheated, fed to a thousand starving voices willing to scream guilty for a morsel.
Drink from the sewer, visit me when your breath stench is truth above all truth, die in the yard and bury yourself on dogs day, then I shall worship the blossom.
Eat the minds of a generation to spew a single resentful thought – collapse into the arms of satire drowning somewhere else altogether unbeknownst to the body.
You forgot to laugh, expression lost to time but still alive and writhing within, memory beckons a response to silence – mud is mud.