and so the plumes of errant dust must fall
on sordid faces, like the wings of kill-
on sordid faces, like the wings of kill-
ing birds. no justice grabs my soured mouth
no inkling of remorse, the people come
together in a daze of song and shout
and who to lead? and what to give? renounce
your life of lazy wish, your eating soul
is never full, is never full, is not
the landfill rotting just a little out
of frame? i'm coming quick, i'm here for you
and you, a sorry, screen-wiped waste of space
and me, a meager help, a fellow blip
a mirror black and staring back. how queer--
the ease with which i know and name my fears.
Love screen-wiped waste of space!
ReplyDeleteVery cool with the meter excellent pace. Enjoyed the sounds. "no justice grabs my soured mouth" Yikes.
ReplyDelete