Buzzcut Silence

[tectak]

we're going on a rampage
(cue the music; this straitjacket
is going down!)
listen: i'm not a god but
(but i can't forget you)

we're running away from
sleep-induced tranquility:
heads collapsed, hearts
squishy with resignation
(it's like a drug, m'am)

there are tall new yorky cities
and clear-eyed stars painted on
the inside of my skull, oily.

brain's been dry-cleaned,
ironed burning hot:
nothing left except buzzcut silence,
pervasive music.
(boom,
boom,
deconstruction.)

pressure is a privilege, they say, drily

[[is this even worth salvaging?-- disclaimer: written at three in the morning-- 80% asleep. also, i can't think of a good title. how do you people come up with one anyways?]]

If you were 80% asleep when you wrote it, how about rewriting it when you are 80% awake? That way you gain self respect and respect the crits. Titles talk loudest when they have something to say about the poem...they whisper down into silence when the poem says nothing...so make the poem speak and believe me the title will scream at you.
Best,
tectak