Imitation of Life

emptyroomThe room is silent
Packaged with tinfoil
Tight like sardines
As constant as rain
Thrumming on this roof
A shaking in my bones
Driving me to distraction
Yet taciturn at best
This hesitant dismay
Holding its breath
Waiting to pass out
Because it hurts less
Not to feel a thing
Lost in this muted sound
This imitation of life
That is way too familiar
Way too comfortable
Like easing into a bath
That scalds as it purifies
Leaving fresh pink skin
But absolutely no regrets
Steam rises from below
The only sound a hissing
Slight and hazy
Fractionally alive
Like this latent echo
Bouncing off walls
Long after we’re gone.

Radio Static

This love is fragmentary
Wholly dysfunctional
Waiting for a reprieve
Or a chance to deny
Its place in this world
These spider-webbed cracks
Expanding out in waves
From a vitriolic center
Vibrations jarring clear
Vacating this empty space
And leaving it hollow
All numbingly vacuous
Shackled to expectations
That will never come true
Taking time and consequence
Like pills to be swallowed
When “love” isn’t “like”
And tears drown out pity
Because it’s all been said before
These catchy turns of phrase
That are nothing but artifice
Dressed up in church clothes
But going straight to hell
This love is a living hell
A symbolic lack of restraint
Disconnected from reality
Like so much radio static
In the middle of a song.