collection season

too many variables
head spinning into a hard stop
the hit
momentarily scrubs you new

and it’s soothing to stay laid out on the floor
watching the zigzags of miasmic houseflies
coalescing in random shapes
near the primer-white ceiling

but it doesn’t do anything
and the inactivity is just as much an action
Monday will come / will come / will come again
and the more you try to ignore

it rapping at your door
the more friends it will bring with each call
and when it does take the hinges
it will drag you out into the street

feed you to its paper horde
and happily move along gathering the alms
the others leave boxed in rows at their borders
so obediently

to keep the Monster happy


About Moly

Average, boring, self-involved human. Twitter: @CultOfCocktails Facebook:
This entry was posted in Poetry, Written, Written Work and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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