“Feticiera” plays
in my head constantly.
At one time the jolts
would shock me to sleep.

Could I let you go,
Could I let you go,
I don’t know. I can’t
quit you, Chino.

like a
tired eye

I’m a wandering poet.
My eyes wander
from word to word,
from woman to woman,
from lash to brush,
to fresh to folly.

I am a wandering poet,
my song stings
the innocent
and wakes up
my tired demons,
spins a constant web.

Wish I knew then
what I do

I wish for
a repellant
to take away
the nightmares.

I sing “Fetiiciera”
in my head after
medicinal naps.

I fight melatonin
while my head
snaps back, whiplash.

I am only a monster
in the madness.
I’ll be gone
by midnight.

I wake up
to the same
fucking song,
every goddamn


Jason Wright is the editor and founder of Oddball Magazine. His column appears weekly. His third book, Train of Thought 2: Almost Home is available now at the Oddball Book Store.