After the Flood

all i'm supposed to be; sitting, observing his week of debauchery.
i'm in the bathtub with gallons of vacancy.
i'm in the bathtub that swallowed my empathy.
i'm all alone as he chokes.

all i'm allowed to be sits at a table with glasses of vacancy,
poured from a box.
glasses of vacancy (stained yellow table cloth),
poured from a box as the facts disagree
with the facts that we've already lost.

and on the street curb
lies a dead bird
and on the street curb
lie your dead words



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