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