clutching cloud

papa’s smoke sighs-

boy, you float on life
through waves, clutched
that loser’s cloud-

i’m lettin’ balls drop
to dreaming grass, soaked
demon ravine ’til
sirens STOP
.

he spit on my floating,
as though wrongest
of feeling-

taints skies ‘neath
rotting ceiling
.

rather i lie
through the eyes, and
die somewhere
inside

heart’s wallpaper
peeling
.

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