kloiterra

a day off,
doing the only thing i can afford to do other than go to work; clean house.
found a bread crumb, an undated fragment of the past.
yellow lined paper means its pre-march '06,
content tells me it's from a hungover-at-work day.
there's no title, but in the top right corner in block caps:
ARBITRARY
SUPERFICIAL
MONETARY
FAKE
and then in cursive:
The cursed birdsong of no sleep
blends like a terrible hallucination
with the morning sun's first rays
and if it weren't for the fear
that every drunk is familiar with
it may have been a beautiful moment
but today it's more than a bad dream now that i'm sober
turning, looking at the sunlight dance on yr eyelashes
wondering what yr name was last nght
and the omen of yr breath turns my stomach
it will be rotten fruit today until refreshing sleep wipes it all away
from too much whiskey the night before,
and the shape-shifting fear is no longer rooted in what happened
but what will.

It's being afraid to fart all day
and the frequent exit ramps of deep breaths;
just trying to hold it all together
and the stinking sweat of recent evils
and a lesson that never seems to sink in.
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have a pleasant week.