it doesn’t matter though
everybody’s lost their appetite
family won’t help
my sneakers stink
I need a shave
blurry eyes
and old cigarette butts
my life feels stupid
the ants on my dirty underwear agree
my arms are weak
from flying
yes I could fly
but I forgot how at a self-checkout
the birds only mock
I have $6 till Thursday
I’m sick and I look like puke
SOS
SOS
I had a breath
but it’s gone now
I’m walking but I’m long gone
somewhere on a clover hill
in my dreams
where all that’s happening isn’t
I sing an old Irish song
with a lilt in my voice
that everything is ok
I rest my head in the sunshine
Thursday is so far away
Here's one we caught / Poetry