Laundry Day

Pitied flesh monsters where cells tango
on protein and lipid dancefloors
yet live as contradictions of our nature
relieved that rent and inflation haven’t impacted
our myths like they have our imaginations
I feel like I’ve been here before
but I do love the smell of inertia
in the morning
Plum blossoms fall between eyeblinks
those pesky neurotic petals of infinite
fatigue cascading from weeping trees
mishmash of machine and melodramas
meeting 6pm deadlines the bills are due
and I haven’t even begun mopping
the floors and composing obscene sonnets
on bathroom walls the impulse of
intoxicated trembling steamed hot crowns
of oblivion near the East River
near the Golden Horn near Pampanga
near the meat buses we use to transport
our years of solitude and servitude
moans of past and present journey-people
praying for visions and grasping charms
in ritual crescent moon juxtaposed chants
butchered empathy on a pile of sawdust
for the sake of modernity and microchips
I swear if I live a hundred years
to tell my story
to write my final testament
please make sure to bury me with clean underwear