Son
my skin
scraping against
the azure sky
soon you’ll find
me drunk
one day
blue lifeless, full
of primordial vomit
fear not, my child
I once played the piano
and spied on the flowers
I’ve carved out
on wooden floors
the bed of my river
blood that seeps
into the streets
where you,
my child,
lift a little finger
to eclipse
the sun

Nihilistic Poetry