a new business park
the same drab grays
another empty parking lot
painstakingly peeling
layers off this onion
blaming the sulfuric
stench for the tears
a perfect plaything
each new level exposed
a confoundation of
repetitions revealing
the hidden cyclicality
of abhorrency calling
from the nothingness
in a computer coded series
of meaningless zeroes

the highways were filled
with absentee drivers
taking selfies as the
sweet symphony of angry
horns call out armageddon
while the workers build a
new bridge over the lake
my toes tapping along to
the music blaring in my
composite plastic coffin
onion skins crackling
in time with the snares
raw red fingers clutch
the steering wheel as i
try to figure out how many
times i can pass the same
red car as it darts in
and out of the still sea
of cars going nowhere
on our way to rockwall
sitting on an old bridge
watching the new one form
an endless loop of humans
being and the world not
caring in the slightest

there is nothing more
to be found inside of me
but these paper thin
layers of fresh skin
over flawed ugliness
and the more that lays
exposed to the harsh glare
the more withdrawn those
that can see me become
yet i keep peeling away
because self sabotage
is something i enact
with deadly precision
and it isn’t as if
anyone is hurt but me