StUCK PhLEGM

In this crimson game
no one can hear
with the styrofoam dicks
shoved up their ears

The melodies bleeding
from the songs they were
trained to slash
the unborn phlegm
nested in a bed of
talcum scented flesh
conjuring up the blues in Memphis
of sleepless nights spattering
beer and smoke
and the idiotic self-assurance
that has made me a failure.

No other can sing
the way I can't
our obfuscated sins
the raison d'etre comme ca
gasping for a spray of color
to move
or the mistakes I've made
to perish
as everything else has

You stained
my last playing card

I can't move.