Prick

Another day unfolds.
Splintered wood
beneath the table.

Prickly pain
Within each finger.

Quiet laughter;
that shitty joke.

Fuckery
casting shadows
with a sixty watt
bulb.

Damned whether
we do or we don’t.

Prick…
a drop of blood
no tear drops.

The shitty joke
we shouldn’t laugh at.

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