mad world
the old year unfolds for me like a shit-stained rose and on the elevated d train i look into blue homes at the debris of humankind at the playpens of screaming children and television sets the empty couches and soiled beds the families huddled over dinner over gadgets that offer them better than flesh their only true hope to rise tomorrow and once again say hello to the cancerous sun i watch this and i think of myself as a mad youth in college student unions of my dirty memory writing mad words meant to take over this mad world and failing having it arrive too late to truly save the gray man looking back at me in the subway window who once challenged himself to be immortal but will now have to settle for being just like everyone else. --John Grochalski