there are days when it feels like goodness
has been abandoned and
pushed into hopeless piles
and the sleeping snakes
inside everyone
rise to strike
when it’s past the time
for hearing hopeful script
or pre-printed inspiration
that feel like swallowed razors
slicing my heart before
their cut to my gut
Maybe it’s too late
and I’m already standing
in something like sewage
waiting for something
like a tidal wave
to sweep me away