she sighed
like a smiling buddha
one step removed
from screaming
fuck nirvana
in the sad mist
of sputtered inconsequence

i hear horns
car
brass
train
all mixed into a cacophony
of sullen morose
the type you only get
when the last good day
is three days
past expiration

we break open
thermometers
to swim
in the mercurial nothing
of the great beyond
stuck here
in this heartwhisper
of painful
right now

she was a pinwheel
on a day
with no wind
sitting alone in a field
of freshly cut roses
left to rot
in the sad mist
of sputtered inconsequence