Struck by Mathias Nelson

I am too anomalous for this small city.
I stand out like Edgar Allan Poe on opium
or Scissor Hands full of Johnny Walker,
my head a dome of dark thoughts.
These cheeks are too heavy for grins.
Moses split my hair with sticky goop
and there is a small beach ball growing in my belly,
filled with fat ancestors.
I am full of it.
I sigh, sigh
and share pockmarks with the moon.
We have been struck,
bullied by the forces that be. We,
always we.
I am not alone in this world,
just distanced.
I can feel my daughter
beneath my feet
reaching for my heart.
But here
the asteroids keep coming,
bringing no time for children.

1 comment:

Opium Poetry said...

hot damn this poem rocks!

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Black-Listed Magazine is an online literary magazine. We publish on a rolling basis: weekly, daily, sometimes hourly. Send submissions here: blacklistedmagazine@hotmail.com