oriental
i’m alive, i’m haunting this mysterious earth
looking down from the glass casts that penetrate the sky’s asshole
at the bees, at the wheels, at the ‘pretty faces with infections’
in photographic love-songs on a japanese flickr.
now i’m going across the underworld by bus
escaping bars with pints that cost more than ~ £3,
men touching women’s asses,
someone getting hit by a wing mirror breaking their jaw.
i buy a pancake on a bridge, its warmth reaches my face.
they are pulling a dead man out a window,
death like an asteroid ~1 hour away.
i hear you touching my hands coveting sympathy, earth,
earth i’m too wasted off your oxygens right now to care
