Bluecollar Blues
day breaks
on a new week’s sun
putrid
as the stains
on my flesh-soaked mattress
damp
as my sour mat
of fevered greasy tangle
hot
as my whiskey-foul breath
another
un-commuted
sentence
9-5
’til merciful dusk
delivers me
jack-knifed
into my jack dan
don’t obsess in sorrow
drown
a bottom-dive
to comatose
no virtue
feigned nor implied
mad goes the struggle
from the hissing sting
of monday
through
the mindless
on off
120-grind
’til
friday
until
saved by the blues
loud ‘n lewd
48 on the hump
bass thumped
drum pumped
bare rumped
notorious
numbed
and nasty
2
debauched
24’s
then
back in the hold
again
countin’ it down
5
4
3
etc
etc
the cruel numbers game
goes round
round round
and ever round
’til
the tombstone’s
tender
solace
~ ~ ~
rob kistner © 2018