Tepid water running slick,
Brown liquid down my throat so quick.
In my chair I sit my ass,
Watching seconds tick tock pass.
The remote I tap in rhythmic time,
Colors flashing, pay no mind.
I rub my feet, calloused rough,
Pick the skin and flick it off.
I scratch my neck, a bristled beard,
Shave I could, a sheer real good.
I snort my snot back up my nose,
Wipe the goo off on my clothes.
Click the channels, two, three, four,
Nothing to watch, check once more.
Go to bed, the day is done,
Wake up tomorrow, live again.
Poetry
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Wow, this poem makes me question our lives and what we use to fill our space. The ending really hits me. “Live again,” it says, but as the readers we are very much aware that what the speaker is doing is not living; it is simply her perception of living.
The rhyme scheme I loved. It sounded very “list-y” which I know you did for style because what the speaker is going through is really monotonous.
This poem is pretty solid.