an average morning
by Ross Vassilev
wake up
dribble out the dreams
slash yr wrists
slash yr mind
there’s killers outside
in the sunlight
I get up and peek through the shutters–
nothing
it’s empty out there as hope
I turn around
scratch my balls
bang on the ceiling just for fun
there’s dogs from Hell upstairs
and children from the toilets of Hell
I would give my left arm
for one day of peace
or a piece of Brooke Shields when she was 15
the bed is all sweaty
a mourning dove coos
and the killers wait in silence.
