Life is a Waiting Game

I can wait.

I can die tomorrow too.

The day after that, as well.

I could carry on not dying

for the rest of my whole life.

​

But can I live today?

​

Garbage flows through my bones,

almost scenic like a photo of

sewage waste in the sea

splashed across the billboards;

Here, here – don't be shy –

my splattered insides

right on your screen –

pay a little from your pity-bank

to finance my death,

Please.

Are you content? Are you entertained?;

And the arsenic is the blood of my brain –

Bright like a crow. Red like an apple

picked from The Garden. Thick like the cattle.

And my heart is forgotten

roadkill, strampled for who-knows-how-long;

Scientific inquiry? Maybe.

God, I'm bored of this

psychological taxidermy;

​

Three words:

Endure.

Endure.

Endure.

​

Life's a waiting game without

a prize.

​

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