TheFeatheredSleep – Desperate time
I’m 24
Funny shaped tap drips without end,
birds no longer sing in this city
I tell myself, I cannot survive much longer
If my view is a saffron robed Pakistani man, hawking up phlegm at 8am, into his dying rhododendron
Despair like me, at these four walls and dirty pipes protruding from beneath singleton sink
Who ever made sinks this size? Sometimes you throw up in them. Other nights you heft your hiney and pee long and shameful
The golden shower of malcontent. I don’t like to share bathrooms with strangers or friends
Poverty and her gifts, laying each day another absence, a reminder, you are in the meat grinder of the city, she waxes her legs on your sharp disappointment
As a kid you thought you’d wrangle diamonds from street corners, the fizz and pop of bright lights luring you to the center, like a Christmas nectarine
Is…
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