I have become a pornstar who doesnt fuck

A writer who never writes

a sponge who never squezes

and here I am, in drought

lost down south in an American nightmare

my stomach knots

and reminds me of oak trees

in a fog of white noise

my palms are sweaty

and my head, anxois

shoulders tense

and I am forgotten

as is the smirk

i tried to remind everyone about

with the revalutions

distilled to apathy

drowning drunks

dissipate

i compare fate

to a match book

peel back

strike slow

and admire

the glow

before it burns out

and the smell of sulfer

saunters

displaced like so many

match sticks before

disregarded

as it once was, is and will be