The Taste of Tomorrow from Today’s Terrible Appetizer

Three blood red lines
Running down the nail
Of my middle finger.

I️ am 500 of something away
from giving up on anything.

Never will I️ Be
that savior Sonofabitch,
because I️ will always be
a Hatchet left in the woods
just outside of town.

Sweating down a dream
that shrinks with age and days,
even commas don’t have my back anymore.
where have the good question marks gone?

I’m sick and getting better at being sick,
but it is not what you think, dear compatriot.
Even lions weep.

The last poem doesn’t count
just as yesterday’s anxieties
shouldn't affect today’s dreams,
but they do and it’s all about how you deal with it all.

I️ don’t.
I️ don’t.
I️ do.
I️ dance.
I️ dig.


Days are hiccups,
and humans are hearts,
attacked.