Digging A Grave

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At daybreak I longed for nightfall.
Morning or night did not really matter.
I could not drink either of the two.
It was all poison to me. Day and night
were two serpents filling me with venom.
When it was night there were less people
out. I would talk to the stars in the sky.
The sun was harder to face. I would
strike a conversation with it out of boredom.

At daybreak the milk of my eyes
filled with blood. At nightfall it was more
of the same. I walked up and down the
block. The serpents were with me filling me
with poison. I pulled my hair out.
I longed to rest in a cool grave.

The deeper the grave, the better.
The blood in the milk of my eyes were like
maps going in all directions. The deeper
the grave, the better. At nightfall I would
dig a grave in the backyard. The owls
and crickets would hum while I worked
digging the grave I would rest in.
The serpents would not sing or hum.