it’s cold
in this land
of codependence
of the pharma deadened
media controlled
rancid melting pot
of a fatal traffic accident
on public dismay

the roads
covered in black ice
to unseeing eyes
by the steady drip
of narco supplements
in the water

the dotted white line
a deafening blur
of deer rutting
over half broken fences
made to keep neighbors unneighborly
with mistrustful glares

it feels strange
alienating the world
yet trying
to convince one another
it is a cozy home
on the edge
of a cliff
as fault is placed
as fault lines shift

behold the winter
of incontinence
an ice sculptor
carefully carved
into the shape
of discontent
as murky gray light
exposes cracks in the facade


5 thoughts on “330am

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