Poetry

Rodent Parade

i have a whole room to myself.

yet, this is me crouching in one corner.

square rooms are prison cells.

they end everywhere.

can you smell the loneliness on my tired clothes?

sweat-drenched XXL Lacoste

made bed. too made to be lain in.

my mind is a gutter. all the waste gathers here.

it is a filthy, filthy place.

my memories are rats.

big ass rats gnawing into my brain.

last night was a rodent parade.

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