I am weeping. Please take my tears. It’s all I have left. I lost myself. I don’t want to find me either. I am dying in a shadow that I keep letting fall. Psalm 23. The sweet comfort of thee. I was beautiful 15 minutes ago. You shoulda seen me. You shoulda kissed me. Someday, I’ll be a candy cigarette with puffs of sugar blowing. Here I am. There I go. I guess this train took me nowhere. Someone’s home but nobody’s here. I have slipped into darkness. But hey, at least I ate sex and caffeine and friends. It only lasts as long as you’re looking at it. And it’s usually fast. Everybody on rage street said the disco ball was glitter. I thought I heard tears falling as the mirrored glass. But I’m usually wrong.

Daniel J. Flore III

Daniel J. Flore III’s fifth book of poetry is WRITTEN IN THE DUST ON THE CEILING FAN and it can be found here.