“Check Out: 11:00 AM”

There's a peace to be found sipping beer
in a hotel room,
where the walls have horror stories
they'll never tell, while someone coughs
down the hall, sounding
less like a death rattle than death
clearing its throat
before letting you mumble
the most unprofound last words,
but the flower coloured beer is calming
as a wreath bought on a credit card
for someone you loved enough
to bury yourself alive in more debt.


“The Greater Crime”

Theft the colour of an empty glass
with mostly melted ice
all that's left
as the whisky dulls
the knife reality holds to your neck
everyday,
and the dead musician you're listening to
gives you an alibi
that no one will ask about,
but the greater crime would be doing nothing,
letting another Saturday night
die in its sleep.