bleak as unrequited love songs, written wryly; heavy as grief,
begrudging, trudging through layers of selfish city sweat;
tell me what I want to know, like a decadent french whore,
tell me what I want to know, like lives depended, time, brief.
sleep comes, like a sneaky gremlin in stubborn systems—
I could lose myself in a million drumless loops, or blastbeats;
career advice, save my life, and quell the wastage, sadness,
diluted white wine, cheap as you like, stubborn as naiveties—
emotionally ambidextrous, slaving dexterity, tipsy and glum,
annotating emails; life before it being so, young so-and-so,
ambition, dangerous as twelve corrupt idols with grotty egos,
could sleep all day, most days, small waves and/or victories,
bloodshot eye, no surprise, land-searching from the crow’s nest.