Fractured A And E

Fractured A And E

It’s the screaming that gets you
every time,
a broken cry
from drum to drum.

I’ve laughed at less,
the ex heroin chic
and the eight to ten weeks,
it’s just a passing phase,
I’m just passing through.

I’m tagged and torn
between hope and home,
though I won’t be seeing either
anytime soon.

They wash the wasted
and I sleep for the sleepless,
dream for the open spaces
the city has lost.

The blood seems real,
but I’d argue against it
and let them take it anyway,
check it over to the beeping
the painless monotone of my heart,
it’s quiet, I’m quiet
I’ve nothing to say to them
this time around.

r.l.w