Fred Aiken Writing

i want to see you scream,
not because i enjoy the sound,
in fact, to be honest, which i never am,
i can’t stand the sound of your voice,
but don’t take it personal,
i can’t really stand any sound,
and envy the deaf every morning
when the dew drops while robins chirp
along to the empire’s anthem of seasonal dystopian destruction
sold out of the back of an old toyota truck
that has three flats,
and one round, round, round