written By
de chirico’s shadows, late
afternoon,
end of winter with sunlight as
weak as christ
gotta laugh when the
fist finds the child’s throat
gotta be some lesser god shooting
stray dogs
down by the river
it’s easy
not enough time in the day to
start worrying about the future
your father dies and then
your brother but
the bills still have to be paid
girlfriend keeps crying every
time you fuck her sister and
this is how the days pass
minutes scrape and hours bleed
a lifetime spent crawling through
sewers thick with disease is
more than some of us deserve
but you’d be a fool to think
you have a choice
you’d be a liar if you said that
begging for the pain
didn’t make you happy
or maybe it’s myself
i’m talking about here
More from this Author
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John Sweet’s recent collections include Heathen Tongue (Kendra Steiner Editions) and Bastard Faith (Scars Publications).
Sweet
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