Another Boring Story

displacement, the basement, isolation commented

relented six stairs down naked bulb, tired lungs,

tired eyes, crooked thumbs not up but sideways

for now. the rise and fall and gentle drops

precipitation never stops i pulled the clouds

inside me and now it's raining again. cried in

my sleep last night for the first time. dying while

i live, living where we die. futility abounds six feet

deep within the coffee grounds. there ashtrays

are volcanoes now apartments burn in red and

brown salt the earth and never grow notice

ashes look like snow falling and just sitting there

more trash than the county fair the smell of

crowds, a burning nose a smell familiarly morose

half-assed attempt only to fail half-assed reflection

ghostly pale you're waving while

i disappear---ashes cementing my fear ...