Jagged Thoughts #40: To My French Vanilla

 

The writer’s life is wiggling
slowly away from me.

My eyes
feel
heavy.
I feel like a runny egg.
I am falling asleep while seeing myself.
an elf in the visibility.

I feel like I can’t get the fat off the bone
quick enough.
necroromantic.
cooling wind on the sasperilla forrest.
the waves water down the shores

like storms against civillians.

This is what happens when you don’t have coffee.
Poet
You can’t even get out of bed without a strong expresso shot.

Coffee you are a violent bitch.
And I am YOUR derelict.
You are a raunchy romp with a lady nurse.
You are a stomach sticky with sap.
You are Burrough’s naked lunch.
You MAKE me a wide eyed owl.
Hooo….Hoot….
You are
a lively mistress
and I am a liver in need of water.
Without you
I am
a solid slash
through a good year tire.

With you I am a statue….liberated.
You are a stones throw from medication!
You are a blood-letting
leech.

Without you I should be put to sleep.
Without you I am asleep.
one chemical rinse
away from
quarintine.
I, need you…..inside me…
I need you to
dilate my eyes and thin my blood…
I need a turbo shot in my spine.

Without you
I am just
another person with
eyes closed,
dragging my knuckles

Just one more person with
an empty cup and
another miserable with
one very large
chip
on my shoulder
uncaffeinated
desperately
trying to howl my yarp.

 

Jason Wright is the founder and Editor of Oddball Magazine. His column appears weekly.

 

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