Dying Alone
his wings in the jagged glass shadows have been clipped hideously/ they say sedation is this empty vacuum where you are not conscious/ this is a lie/ get used to it/ they’re going to lie to you and force feed you murmuring the dark selves songs/ curling discontent, you hear, you imagine, you smell, and glooms the day through gauze, occupying the body politic, and pissing through a tube/ it’s not their fault/ what they have to work with is wintertime and faith/ that’s about it/ the sky is starting to turn inside your head, and you begin to realize you are alone to the open fields, incinerated, you are going to die, and your innards contract like the light when it falls upon the forest floor/