Poison Breath

Poison breath one gets when one
Collapses into death-like life--the trap-
Door falls, you're left standing
In air--burns your esophagus, rising
From rusted steel stomach:
Whole, intact melon rind scraped hollow, forever empty,
Filled with knives of hunger.

Painful sighs, tears ever-ready;
You fear to breathe in others' space;
Sickly cloud you aim away from people's faces;
Hide your face away. "Don't look at me!
You'll kill me with your pity."
Your dazed stone stare of agony
Is freaking people out on the train, in the streets.

Diseased, broken GI tract + lungs is all that's left,
Surrounded by some pounds of numb-ed flesh
Transporting your pipes from site to site
To do the duty to which you subscribed
Before you were buried alive.

---

 

 

March 1, 2005