used to be
there
was
the
simple glass lie
of
the
bottle by the bedside
i g t
l h
to keep my corpse a
in the nights poor hours
where hope was hunted
like papas big game
then
time
instigated intervention
and
flipped me all about
with
benevolent misdirection
and
a
revelatory hole card
and now theres love
a magic cat
and a drawer of tidy tranqs
to
put
my
wired tired
adrenalin dry
meat stack
d
o
w
n
and i hunt myself
on
the
soupy edges
of
oblivions game
hoping for a quick clean kill
or the flutter
in the fog
of a white flag
of a surrender
without
any
terms
terms like one more piss
or
remembering
i
used
to
smoke
from offthegridnews.com
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