◇i◆
My chest burns still
with I-could-have-beens.
and the crumbs of
why-nots are stuck
between my teeth
refusing to be flossed out,
clawing the cave of my mouth
like pats dreading
the touch of light
and I can only blame myself
for digging in
the greasy dinner,
loneliness had fixed for me
yesterday's night.
I can't help but
scoff my foolishness for
calling every meal my last,
though I know too well
that the table will be set
over and over again
and the nausea
I wake up by
will be just the same
as long as
the main dish is
my life's leftovers
and the only guest seated
to savor its bitterness
is
me.
◆ii◇
I wish my bones
weren't so brittle
but they are;
brittle, numb
and too worn out
to not buckle
under the weight
I load them with
as the days pass by,
the ache grows heavier
and I vainly
ban my mind to feed on
an extra of
poisonous thoughts;
while my heart sneaks
behind my back
gorging mouthfuls of
junk reminisces,
leaving me
vim-drained on a bed of rues,
cracking a few bones
with every toss,
as I sweat to rise
and seize the strength
to take out
the pilled trash bags
crushing my ribs,
before the rancid air
inflating my lungs
corrodes them to the last breath.
