In an angry mood
at an angry point
of an angry way
through an angry town.
The days are long
and the nights, short.
Short as a midget mouse.
My breath stretches from here to the bathroom.
I can feel it; I can see it.
One long line of powder, dust and foul emotion.
The sound of a grooming animal. Pasty.
Agitation, damnation, mutilation.
Parts falling into pieces. Breaking into places.
Becoming one? Conjoined?
WHO knows. THIS blows.
Strike one, strike two, I’m well past out.
How many chances? Not many more, that’s for sure.
Resisting the explosive urges.
Succumbing to others.
Tumbling down the rolling hills into some kind of valley.
Is there an exit?