Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Party Hangover

I've invented a bed for breaking bodies,
and it is taking a toll on my work life:

it separates joints by hardening muscles,
and then you find lovers you ought to have forgotten
telling you in fevered dreams that things will be alright

I've invented a bed of cruel humor, apparently,
a thing that snickers as my turning is frustrated
beneath its quilts that I can no longer air out

it has not yet done its work enough to spit me out
and nightly I attend the party that will one day do me in.

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