words

the paper read words bled black ink news
the same shit everyday, smearing on your fingers
the harsh reek of some ordinary nothing,
burning nations and burning dollars
and each and every a sore moment, a hangover,
this, then, is that and this again
is this, a waste of words and love and hate
and everything, a melody with a hoarse thin shiver,
your tambourine is a gesture,
and this is then that this again,
this again, your tambourine is a gesture
without words or looks, a gesture,
a means to some end, cigarettes and cancer,
a world within a breath,
a heartbeat slow and without rhythm,
a means to some end, cigarettes and cancer,
smoke rings and slow death,
your tambourine is a gesture,
slow and steady and ringing,
this then is that and this again.

-S.C. Martinez