-

In this

Ginsbergian rip-shred

attack mode I canvas

an afterhour dovefield,

caress the nightshade,

all burgundy brown.

-

I ponder a street scene,

trash strewn-complacent,

green bottles broken below

my sightline, and strict

failures persist in this

normal occurrence.

-

Walking through caverns of leftover

nowhere, sprinting now-running proud

I claw my exuberance, slash at my

handcuffed mind in attempts at recovery.

-

I used to think addiction was

inside the mind, not outside the

body, now I know better, a shard

of glass strong.

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