My New Couch

A long beaten string of day,

a dedication to exploitation,

and you see it all, feel it all with me

you take it wonderfully—

for what pleasure do I owe you

to be able to feel so deeply.

As you descend back and recline,

you revisit all my broken memories,

my pain and trauma feel

as disposable to me as I to you.

Your gray whiskey stained nature

has gotten me through and out of

eternities in hell, yet I take advantage

of your kindness—I’ve corrupted your mercy.

In front of me now sits a stranger

new and obtrusive— sprouting stiff brown leather

ready for a new facet of being.

In front of me now sits an outsider,

your whiskey stains buried by layered blankets

now left to the barren side of the road.

As you scornfully wait to be eaten by the junkyard.

I give a long gaze one final time.