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12 a.m.
by Erika Hommel
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12 am
its an extra Tylenol pm tonight
thread a bare needle
and sow up the lips
just good on paper
not ready for this
shaking
did you remember saying goodbye-
never did but never bothered
to admit it
when the rush overcomes
I'll over see what happens
to the tiny birds in my throat
shoot each one dead
or run them over with
my car, nothing ever
good comes out of just
being you
especially when you're just
good on paper,
won't get a tree this year
won't put out my wreath
I'm too tired to care
have another
have another
the bull horns going off
won't shake shit
and I don't want to go out
not this weekend, not ever
I want to sit in my house
and fucking rot,
it would be so easy to make
up some excuse, vomiting
child's sick, can't come,
sitter canceled, broken leg
paralyzed suddenly, vertigo
blind, deaf and mute
one of my legs fell off
because lately I don't want to
doesn't cut the mustard
just brings the laughs
and then someone else pretends
to know me and stirs me in
their thought path, but
in my mind I already know
it doesn't matter where I've been
or where I'm going
its just silence that matters
and right now, nothing
nothing
nothing
is silent
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