FREEZER BURN

i work my own suffering.
it’s sweet and silent as a pillow.
i’m tired of carrying on.

my poems are as flat as a ginko leaf.
my back is as crooked as an email.
my emails are as bitter as old fruit.
my dreams are as cold as a screw at the bottom of the freezer.
my nightmares are isotopes.

my hell is a screen,
my heaven is a screen,
i write where i chew,
i throw up where i sleep,
i kick the womb i was born in,

i walk.
my toes are bent.
the pavement is hot.
the cuffs of my jeans are thick with mud.

i carry on,
carry on,
carry on