cradle song

there's a mattress outside
waiting to unfurl. you lost your
insurance now we ll suffer
another fucked day of this is your life.
at least you have audience tonight
one not involved with her Own drugs.
the dishes are piled, unfolded protiens cohabitate
in the frig.  let them rot, its the way of things.

without glasses now
every things fuzzy, if not warm,
forlornly peeking from
shoes in lost
 decades quickly
 descended through axions
 that hold on to a blurry
diamonite  sparkle passing through all that dark matter
that stands between me and now