(no subject)

[bleedthiscolour]

i feel smothered
by the nine to
five;
tangled up in knots
i'm punching the clock
my bedside table
is littered with time cards.
they wake me up
in the night,
staring back
like early morning alarms
torn from sockets
to buy a second
between the dreams
we sleep through
& the nightmare
we wake up to.
i have been waiting
for so long
to taste the sweetness
of open air,
but all i have is smoke
in my lungs,
a bitter taste
on my tongue
from swallowing this pill
for years now.
i'm a worn out shoe
i'm feeling sick
i'm feeling sad
i'm feeling blue
& the cold faces
i see single file
on city sidewalks;
i wish i could take them
in my arms
like stacks of overdue
library books
& whisper
it will be okay;
tomorrow shines like coney island
& we
can breath the smog
like meadow flowers
& we
can live forever
in perpetual motion
like tiny cogs.
the blank look
reveals everything;
i'm talking to deaf ears
& they say
boy, you have bills
to pay
boy,
you have rent
to make
boy, quit wasting your time
reaching at the sky
trying to pull down stars.
it's the conditioning that concerns me;
now all my friends
work for banks
or they're sleeping
in a middle class dream;
we talk politely
about lawn care,
right-wing left-wing
partisan politics,
the newest television set
& the credit we could use
to buy it.
there is a hole
in my chest
the size of the sun,
violent enough
to cast icarus
from the early
morning
sky;
wax melting
on hot cement
in fibonacci sequence
cul-de-sacs.