writing love letters in ash

my car is a
hearse driving through
the dying small towns
a mobile ossuary
upon broken roads
a myopic sarcophagus
waiting for the
storm to lash out
cleansing the land
of dreamshatter
these lines coated
in ashes and embers
a soft soot decorum
in dire negligence
straining the air
for shards of rusted hope
to scribble portraits
of americana in decline
a perpetuity of
sluggish moritorium
sloppy and misspelled
odes to the unrequited
passing a series of
boarded up windows
on foreclosured homes
carving love letters
left undelivered
of declarations
hanging themselves
from dusty rafters
waiting for me
an amateur coronor
performing post mortem
biopsies on these
cancerous growths
asserting themselves
in a potter’s field of
dead and dying dreamers

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