i want to package my eyes
and return to sender

everything has brown overtones
brown and gray

they see the
sky stained
dirt brown
flowers, gray
a gray child
blowing brown bubbles

they see what
shouldn’t be there

they see ruins and rubble on the
streets of santa monica blvd
bars and barbed wire on the
windows of every
dance floor
night club

i needed groceries but
i opened the door to a
wall of fire
when people speak
i see lightning bolts
hiding in their words

i need a new thumb
i have a black thumb

i was close to a woman once
but she turned to ash
my friends, ash
willpower, ash
i baked a cake of ash

i need a new brain
my synapses play tricks
on me i don’t feel like me

i feel like
a fourth place ribbon
a participation trophy
broken spine
broken condom

a single cockroach
in a grease fryer

an antelope in the lion’s jaws
while the rest of the herd
gallops away

i feel like

a blue screen of death
expired yogurt
laid to rest
in the trash

the sound wave of
one man
screaming into the void

a ghost town
a hobo’s box fort

my insides itch
they’re always itching
there are spiders
flying through my bloodstream
fossils under my skin
spikes in my stomach

i saw my future through a sniper scope
with twitchy fingers

i want to be clean
i want to scrape the cobwebs
and ghouls from the attic
i want to look out the window
in the morning
and see white smoke
and a sunflower growing tall
out of the corpse of a goblin

i want
i want
i want
i say
barricaded behind closed doors


One thought on “scrape

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