It's Still Life

It’s Thursday

We exist on Thursdays
along with flies spinning around
on their backs.
They’ll eventually petrify
like a salted peanut.

Yes I know there’s pee on the seat.
and toothpaste on the mirror.
The toothpaste is mine.
I’ve no doubt,
the pee is not.

He sliced off a bit of his chin today.
With his straight razor.
Blood all over his undershirt.
And I’ve no doubt
the blood is his.

There’s a man in town,
stands on the corner telling everyone
that Jesus is coming.
He points to the sky, and says
tomorrow is Thursday.

AI Digital Artwork is created using Midjourney. Imagery and poems ©Misky 2023 Shared on Twitter #amwriting @midjourney