Thursday, 7 April 2016
April Poems 2016 / 07
I asked for a day off,
away from the bustle of urban life
just one day
where I didn't have to worry
about the eternal existentialist reality of living
or the possibility that an afterlife,
if one believed in it at all,
would be full of rich white people passing gas
into the waters of rebirth.
I didn't expect to be taken literally
and I'd like to go home now.
This morgue drawer is no fun.