9.9.19

plastic bags
and
maxi pads
and
the sound
of heart strings
being severed.

howls
of the wolf
and
the opposite
of truth
now is not the time
for being clever.

dancing
prancing
gallivanting
to a song
so soft
it is silken.

while
fever dreams
and
radioactive beams
cause pulse rates
to quicken.

to thicken.

an ebony spire
over an ocean
of fire
casts doubt
on those
who witness.

its endless.

like forever.

only ever
so slightly
less bleak.

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5 thoughts on “9.9.19

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