Survival, a poem by Joseph L.M. Sturm at



written by: Joseph L.M. Sturm



Verified on pavement.
Cracked in mirrors.
The end is nearer
than the soul inside.

Bonafide bone-in
cried. I curl up,
Twitch, and fly high
just to get by
Just to get by.

In the distance, I hear
Ukranian screams
and see Russian tanks.
Or maybe Ukranian.
I see needles.

The war on bats ended
just in time for the
War on Caviar.

Bubbles are beautiful
until they pop.
My family is beautiful,
but I can’t feed them.
Maybe they’re better off
in a picture.
They won’t be hungry enframed.

I see a bunch of kids
wearing masks in a swimming pool.
And Karen stole my package
because I get too many.
And I dance-copy videos.
I take pictures of #food.
Video me giving #money
to the homeless.
I influence.

I heard a politician tell the truth once –
the entire damn truth, I tell you,
but he died. Hanging off a doorknob.
It was suicide. Poor guy.

And then I saw the news
About how New York is
going to build a massive stadium
but doesn’t have enough for
foster kids.

This homeless guy.
He says to me, He says,
“those Rooskies caused our
Gas to fly into the purple sky.
But the smell is beautiful.
I tell you that sometimes
I like to make a sandwich.”

And she says, She says,
“let’s go.”

Random, but true. Gas
went up. I figure I’ll
have a truck rally.
I read that gas goes
when good deals
are made.

I wonder who pissed
off the devil.

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