All my life, I'm in a tunnel
radio in my hand waiting for signal to return
cursing my concrete ceiling
cursing my concrete heart.
For the next ten minutes all we have
is this radio static coming in from nowhere,
like the kind that wakes me in the morning
that ties me to the bed.
Radio silence like the static
that ties me to my bed.
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1 comment:
yo, one time i heard this spoken word poem about radios and static.
It knocked sars and I off our feetsz!
This reminded me of it.
that's all
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