‘Simians 3’ by Walker Storz


You were born
with (statistically)
no chance

You were born
into soft noise
and sickness

What good is
what little
quiet that

against the
onslaught of
glowing screens
and hyper-present
noise, outlined
in neon

These days
you nurture
all you have
left of your
animal hurt

Fueling an
acid flux,
a nausea
at the seat
of yr soul,
an anti-
Sit with it
and hold it
like a secret,
like a poison
that loves u
too closely, that
licks behind ur
ears like a
wayward flame-
a friend that
nobody else

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s