unfulfilled

I’m six hours down and fourteen cigarettes in
watching Prodigy’s “Smack My Bitch Up” music video
on mute for the art content
listing to Jarryd James on repeat
because I like the way it sucks the air
from my lungs
and leaves me pining for the porn reel
in my head
that I can’t take advantage of
in these air conditioned work hours

I can’t stop thinking about you
between the NSFW youtube videos
I secret between unpaying customers
my eyes flicking to the crawling of the clock
and the empty cash register
thinking insanity looks like a dead end job
in a dead end town
and the silence of unanswered text messages

If loneliness kills
then I guess I’m already dead
but no one’s told my body
it’s time to let go
and slip into a coffin mattress
where dreams and reality blur
somewhere more uninhibited
than here
because my body is the only thing
that’s turned on
and there is no freedom to
blow the fuses out in the rise and fall
of screaming chemistry

© Indie Adams 2015