give me the meat and I will chew it up
down to the bone
because I burn in this shithouse called world
this time
this living wasted from all of us
up and down the wasted rivers
the bled sky
everything
is soaked in decay and death
do you see the kids running in the park?
do you see the smiling housewives?
do you see the burning sun?
Oh,everything is tilting
and falling down
the jaws of this beast
we are inside
we are there
and we die little by little
each second
each moment
each day
and we hold our heads up
and we wait for some response from above
and we wait
and we
wait.
there was a shot in the night
and something screamed my name
and my hands are shaking
and my body doesn’t exist anymore
please, tell me, why there is this monstrosity in you?
why there is this rotten apple in the garden?
for all the years
for all the time
I just wanted one thing
to touch you.
I reach my hand
bone
silence.
Peycho Kanev is 28 years old. He loves to listen to sad music while he drinks his beer slowly. His work has been published in Word Riot, Gloom Cupboard, Poetry Cemetery, Nerve Cowboy, The Chiron Review, The Guild of Outsider Writers, Spoken War, Side of Grits and many others. He lives in Chicago.