4/16/18 1:30AM
I am shorn on this stoop!
a flickering image in a shadow box, the car doors crash and I am the only one to stare!
every corner a mud pit!
every crock full of feet!
it is all based on a fake rose!
nothing good comes of false flora!
my language is no longer flowery, it is overgrown with kudzu!
what is a night off kilter, if not one that will surely ruin my morning!
there are no longer birds in the ice rink!
even sliding just runs deeper tracks into the new earth!
the crust is gone!
sanctify it’s holy grain, and be rewarded in Laphroaig!
and my ankles are covered in dijon! tonnes and tonnes!
the neighbor stole my cat!
the stray I had loved so dearly now lives indoors!
the fan just keeps pumping!
pumping out smog!
circulating a smokehouse!
and it never is cured!