My New Couch
A long beaten string of day,
a dedication to exploitation,
and you see it all, feel it all with me
you take it wonderfully—
for what pleasure do I owe you
to be able to feel so deeply.
As you descend back and recline,
you revisit all my broken memories,
my pain and trauma feel
as disposable to me as I to you.
Your gray whiskey stained nature
has gotten me through and out of
eternities in hell, yet I take advantage
of your kindness—I’ve corrupted your mercy.
In front of me now sits a stranger
new and obtrusive— sprouting stiff brown leather
ready for a new facet of being.
In front of me now sits an outsider,
your whiskey stains buried by layered blankets
now left to the barren side of the road.
As you scornfully wait to be eaten by the junkyard.
I give a long gaze one final time.