Grudge Poem by Joshua Aube

this grudge is an infatuation,
i am not in love with grudge
it comes as a dark maroon devil
between my lungs - arresting them numb
or like the silence of the bomb before it goes off
i am not in love with grudge
it makes my lungs gasp for breath
ah! poor lungs.. they are helpless
my poor hands, they are helpless too
they hopelessly wipe the invisible sweat from my brows
my work, my scripts are like
my poor entrails - all in a mess
i try to get rid of the nightmares
through my pee and my stool in the sad morning
I try to forget broken daydreams
in the cheap smelling underbreasts
of a random night-woman.