Everyday is a
death of many deaths
Everyday I wake to a
dream of a dream of another life
Every life is a confrontation of value and
I wonder my worth against the granulated
pixels of reality

2 glasses of water, a
plastic bag beneath the seat, a
fork I use and then discard and
I am still alone in the eyes, a
dead-weighted hearse heart-
heavy as a tire and diseased as a
rusty car I am a fire in a trash can burning
garbage to ashes and then I am none just
smoke that smothers those I pillar against

Fissure by the breast, snap the
sternum and rented ribs, mausoleum in the
mouth I can only speak of unliving, like I
move in constant backwards motions, ripples
reversing inward until they condense to a
drop and vanish up in the air, and like this too
I am vanishing, dissolving into space like the
crumbs of a once lighted star, except there is
no explosion, no beauty, no rage of flame and
splendor, just a void into which I
recede and become nonexisting