holes

holes in my blue jeans are many,

stains show on my worn T-shirt soul.

the small bit of love she gave fills the tank,

as I speed to my next makeshift angel.

 

sole-thin sneakers keep walking,

sun-heated asphalt still burns.

bite of mold sandwich from a silver lunch truck

represents how my standards have slipped.

 

selfish shellfish of a modern man,

hidden within dinged up case.

I need what I want, I want everything.

nothing’s become what I am.

 

attention is friction of skin on skin,

affection is bait that floats in my eyes.

she’ll be hooked, and I’ll be alone,

again and again, like a pile crane refrain.

 

the pain is a Michigan winter undressed.

with short blurts of unbridled orgasms.

Reviews

[Kenneth The Poet]

This spurt of work is excellence pure and simple.

[Jūdan FyreHeart]

An empty life of fleeting moments so painfully expressed.