Rituals

i am fed up
with ire
victuals from the microwave
opportunistically bursted
and tired

i rely instead
on death
rote moments and nothing
resignedly rescheduled
and bed

i move on and on
through dream
music deprived of listening
asthmatically thwarted
and breathe

i espy a form
familiar similar
you social me through
wretchedly blinking
and grin

like skin, torn.