Poem-A-Day #14 : Election Year Feels 2

Election Year Feels 2

America,
          you self-destructive ass

          The stage is empty
and the flags are limp          The corners collect confetti

Outside in the street there are probably protestors
          but the sounds are empty and static - breaking overhead

the sound of all the balloons popping

America, tell me what the concrete is for if not grinding faces to pulp
          Skin mixing with spit and cum

Is this how you like it? I'm not so sure - there is a hesitance behind your eyes
a sort of "if not now, then when?" hovering in the periphery of yourself

Like a windless parachute          you unopen and fill
with yourself

                    and fill with everything else too

Poem-A-Day #13 : Election Year Feels

Election Year Feels

America - you are always in a state of emergency

          You couldn't be more basic          You like
the masochism          I keep waiting for you to ask

for help tying that rope
                                  to hand you a lemon wedge