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  • FM radio
    blasts midnight
    from out of dawn's ass
    while
    jazz of insane dead men
    comforts loneliness
    like balsa wood totems
    chasing demons of bad timing
    and
    even worse choices.
    .
    bed
    crumbs
    from salami sandwiches
    instead of steak,
    naked female erotica
    held captive on pages
    of glossy magazines
    in place of real flesh.
    I think
    and think some more
    until losing all gravity to depression
    and
    wondering why
    the pictures no longer move
    at 35.
    .
    .
    ©2016 Miles Ciletti
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