“I Raged a Little Too Hard”


I have a bad case of the Bossa Nova
shakes twitches twinging
a secret across the fabric of cityscapes
fetal against breathless lips
                          cut the sentiment shit
exuviation of text messages blind
in the heart throbbing a chorus
of mind phased clutter of alcohol shivers
                        spraying a gust of puke
barely missed the bowl white washed
against the mold water dumped across
the cowl of tile floor spinning
in webs bolstering shadows
through the hex of my learning
before daylight bursts
                     forth from my face.

-r. miller


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