its the summer time

and I am still wasting away

the sound of the cicadas

deafen into a death drone

its incredible how sleep

becomes your enemy

when nightmares

haunt your existence

and it isn’t all bad

eventually you do wake up

into the mourning

out of sobriety

into the front lines

its fight or flight

and the darkest night

it’s only a few more

rotations

I laugh to myself

in the same way

as when I fly by airplane

right after take off

and just before landing

when we all flash images

of one mortal firework

Sinatra sings “Thats life”

and I snap

whats left of my fingers

on the tarmac

my mouth tumbles

by a runway light

and its still laughing

thinking of all the other

passengers praying

what a waste we are

even you reading this

you could do something better

why aren’t you

maybe your as bored as me

and there was nothing left on TV

I’m still laughing at you

life’s a joke

and we are the punchline