Believe Me

the hour
is prohibitive

again

lying in dilapidation

dormient kitten
cradling my head

amid the burden of its fleas

*our fleas

fully enthralled
in trying to write
a fucking poem

on the topic
of diq piqs

perhaps
things could be worse

though only by
a quantum margin

no.

. . . talk about privilege . . .

who am i
to go on living

if this my default perspective

believe me

it’s not as if

i wanted
to exist