My Job

struggling flashes of light

across a waterbend

failing at the duty of a job

dialating at the prospect of starting again

forever twisted in a wild fantasy

hidden behind the will of fake chastity

because the other side of you twinkles

reflection on the canal below

always meeting expectations

leaving you oh so mellow

squirts of electricity zapping through your veins

probably damaged by the elements, scraping at your reins

you’re tired of it now, burnt out

i’m tired of watching it, the job you were made to do

crumbling like sand through skinny fingers you slip past the barley there fat and bone