swallow

im clinging to the bitter outskirts
of bare witness
the blinding glare
of plain sight

a cross hangs heavy,
humid piles of seeping
hot breath

the moon mistakes you
for something perfect

the passing of slight
harnessed reason
my pleads
are undone
and shining
golden arches

a nightmare of grease

can you believe this?

they took me to the ballpark
and wouldnt let me play
the wipers orchestrate
my second adolescence
my hope for nothing

and now he screams

she is my broach
and i approach her as such

im breathing better than i ever have
but i still take medicine
i am medicine sour on the tounge
i am darting to and fro
i am sleeping on a bed
i am a ghost to you.

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