Climb out.
Videos,
gang bangers,
finger fucks.
Denying eyes
and lying tongues.
Hard to get
menthol cigarettes.
Bad world.
Mad riot.
Quiet age,
sick and stained.
Blood and semen,
blood and fire,
drought and derelict;
the crying windows.
Sick
of the mad midnight.
Tincture for a solitude.
Rivers of old bones.
Click back,
swipe left,
slit wrists
and split lips.
Cry yourself to sleep;
daylight is a son of a bitch.
Cap off the night
with Fentanyl dreams.
Bad world;
wake me when it’s over.
Fuck.
Sleep.
Netflix and burn.
Chemical trails
in my head
like a gateway.
Paranoia gone.
Flash back to 1981.
Arcade games,
ice cream;
a sun that didn’t hunger.
Trapped,
in real time.
Fuck it,
we’ll do it live.
Delete history.
HG – 2017
