Carcinogen and Tonic

dreaming of gold
while working for copper.
The heroes laugh
in their dead sleeps
at what little I have to offer.
"Here's the shovel," they say,
"Now bury your self."

this isn't character building.
this isn't an accident or mistake
that you learn from and move on.
That which doesn't kill you
will only cripple and maim
with sickle and cane.

I collect jars of dust on the windowsill in my room.
every morning I put the jar to my mouth
and inhale.
I've learned how to not choke
on the the dirt and dead flies...
Just enough gas to get to work, I say.

I've lost thirty pounds in four lonely months
spent talking to my self like this.
A steady diet of cigarette butts and dumpster juice,
and sleeping next to exhaust pipes.
I eat well.
the daily doses self mutilation by the river,
the strict regimen of stillborn hopes,
I can't remember the last time I've gone hungry.
It's a good life in vault.