Iconoclast

Let me out of here

I could try

Meet a new person every day in the mirror, hair redding

at the edges, morning light oppressing. It’s a feeling

of an empty toolbox at the start of the day, blaring

old favourites at peak volume into ears, listening

to the silence that hums along, along, alone. Fixing

drinks, chemical carcinogens, pressure of time, sitting

on the dirty floor at 2:15am.