The Moon Is Not For Us

Poetry 27

How do you imagine I felt when they guaranteed safe passage

for the fleas but forgot about me on the sideline?

Wasted weekends in liquor-based stupors without friends

Tired eyes rubbed into the back of the skull

yawning with every orbit

I miss you

Falling to my knees until I'm shouting for it to stop

Breaking promises again, my ambition knows nothing lower

and neither do I

It all feels like a rotating shithole with nowhere to go

What do you do when the higher-ups have given up?

Watching the rocket ships launch without you

Tangerine dreams sprouting from fields of the unworthy

We try to clothe them all but the thread runs dry

and the loom stops spinning

Bible-thumpers grinning cheek-to-cheek like a Cheshire cat

giving the wrong directions in a land of nonsense

Can anyone breathe the air anymore?

What's freedom when you're locked to your job

with no opportunity and nothing to discover but

more of the same

Surely they told you some of us shoot higher

I'm just not sure if I'm included

or fuel on the fire burning for someone else

Burning like hell, burning out

The stars do it too, so what's the shame in some

midnight games to chase away the monotony

of blank page after blank page

I can fill in the rest, I think

but I've never trusted my own notions, nor would I

given the chance

Dragging doppelgangers out of boxes

thought covered in dirt and buried

six feet under

Punching holes through pine-boxes

to strangle the rest

Branded sigils stabbed through the chest

of all that is and all there ever will be