Red State

Smashing.Burritos in Hot Wheels fashion crash. Outs.

All the long years rung from the cloth of my very soul.

The sorrow dear & empty, switch with me.

I still cry with eyes closed, over flowers found by the edges.

Over fethers foolishly I let fly their silver.

Dream, how I never save any.

How I gave up after so many.

Wish, I could feel content.

I could feel anything.

Except this crippling sense of my own self regret.

You want the pictures back, for proof to exist.

For clasp to life, in my lazy third eye.

Come back nights, the pale moon shines.

When the stars take off in rings.

Like looking down your shin past your phone.

Your whats left after its all gone.

Small memories, big dreams, tv dinners, flash frozen in places.

Rows of drone life, filling out paper work for tickets to dinner.

On verre craquelle data sets in tiny foil allocations.

Drinking sundrop & pink jolly ranchers, sprites dancing under mock apostle enlightenment,

B*****s calling it cotton candy vermouth.

Evil living thier best life in backyard red states.

Reviews

[Neha agrawal]

This reads like someone flipping through channels on a broken TV inside their own heart — switching from love lost to the American decay, from longing to disgust, from mourning to mockery. It’s not trying to be clean. It’s trying to be real. And it is.

This is art. Fierce, messy, disillusioned, but still searching. Please keep writing.

[Jon R.T.]

Wow thank you so much glad you like it