that vague burning stomach pain

You wake up wanting to vomit
you feel so alone
you tell me that my eyes are
Venus flytraps.
Holy bracelet
on your write wrist
while you starve in protest
till the afternoon. Voice.
I want to pull that pain out of you.
Dusky cigarettes, whiskey burns
those leather boots
worn at the heels from kicking back
the pavement.
Hard.
Marlboro man, you walk so fast
you run New York.