Crawling Between the Light Blue Electrical Sockets

Whisps of gray poison slink

proudly, quietly around the gray

cubicles, melting marble chords of

self-esteem, directing my crouching 

character until like the innocent

charcoal translucent in the waves

of masterful ocean, I am

slammed against the fearless,

tarnished pavement of the walls

of an empty closet and the boss

shreds me, rolls the wads of me down

a chute to a table full of emotional

indigestion, across from an old, rotted,

scrunchy man, mean man, impolite, mouth

sealed as he is served by hippies, and I 

think it’s okay, no bitterness, he’ll die very

soon, and wilting, I know it is true

for all of us.

, , , , ,

  1. #1 by Kay Camden on February 25, 2014 - 9:47 pm

    I read this a few times. As you know, I’m not fit to comment much on poetry but I’ll just say these phrases I love:
    crouching character
    emotional indigestion
    And the end. You always know how to get that punch in.

    • #2 by Carl on March 9, 2014 - 10:24 am

      Kay, I’m so lucky to have you read and you’re as fit as anyone! Thank you for your comment.

  2. #3 by clinock on February 26, 2014 - 12:40 am

    Day job…been there in front of that man…still stick pins in his image…he is “wilting” I know he is, like a forgotten cabbage at the back of the fridge. Powerful as ever, your words Carl, inspiring me dumb-struck…

    • #4 by Carl on March 9, 2014 - 10:26 am

      Your comment is powerful for me. Thank you for reading and thank you for the comment.

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