Generic

The smell of burnt rice 
captures the memory 
in the company of 
Daddy Long Legs, 
voices I try to drown 
but have no more 
enamel to grind on, 
the sticky heat 
not helping 
the booming voices 
after midnight 
chattering over 
combo movements 
distracting me 
momentarily 
from the black spot 
cataract 
that has accompanied me 
for years. 
Old long legs 
sits quietly 
unnoticed 
and waits to 
dine perhaps 
on the mosquito 
that drank my wine 
a few moments ago. 
Dare I think green 
leave off the cooling 
enjoy the hum 
of the icebox 
imagining myself 
tomorrow’s lunch 
wrapped in wrap? 
Fuck it. 
The world will smile 
at me sleeping soundly 
under the Frigidaire 
dreaming of a green tree.

Sweat Hypnotic Induced Hallucination