Holes
I am the man who
digs a trench, four walls for you
walls made of mud
four eyes made for the cathedral
how pretty it would be to be with a beauty in the country
but here I am with the worms in the mud
I can smell excess
this hellhole reeks of excess
of worms gorged on garbage
it’s on my cold hands, mud covered
every coffee cup from here to kansas
emptied on the surface and sunk down, settled in
The beauty in my mind is now laying on the beach
her hands are on her hips and my tongue is in her teeth
and the light from the hotel behind her silhouettes her shape to me
I sigh and stub my cigarette, her head turns up to me
hm, my imagination’s cheesy
Like bad film noir
The bombers blaze ahead
above my hole in the night sky
1943, the cities of Europe are up in flames
and the only thing to blame is a few mad imaginations
including my own damn imagination
as I sit and think of WWIII and grant the thought reality
Everyday begins with coffee and digging
and everyday ends with the closing of blinds
the beauty holds on tight, in the hole in my mind
the hole of the whole in this hellhole at night
Doctor
“Kill me” my doctor said, I have the worst doctor in the world
My Doctor keeps calling me at night reminding me I could die any minute
I told my doctor that I went to another doctor who said I DON’T have lymphoma
my doctor was mad that I cheated on him, I am mad because he intentionally pretended I had lymphoma
our relationship is not very healthy at the moment
My doctor is from Somalia, his dad is a pirate
who ever heard of a Somalian Doctor?
I think maybe my doctor is just a pirate in disguise
My Doctor told me my feet were “gross”
My doctor uses words like “illin’, buzzy, brosef, bitch, cracker”
My doctor is always bragging about how much weed he can smoke