Michael Sean-Lazarchuk
Empty Days
The thinking is finished
devoid of future
& now every little
thing I do leans me
weirdly toward
collapse.
Standing in
front of this mirror
the bulging belly
reveals the hulking
earth bound scum
I’ve become.
My
beer rotted brain
carries back a weary
article from the fame
catalogue hoping to
exchange for phantomesque
appearance.
Living
hand to mouth,
a crazy
laughing loon,
I blurt out,“I’ll trade my
silver scarf of air
for that purple doomsday
ribbon of antiquity.”Knowing
time abandons all
in time
without remorseturns everything I think
to SHIT....
Leaves me
strangled in the
crumbling debris ofThe Dream.
Dead
from a massive
dose of Life.
Page(s) 115
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- Second Aeon
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