They then were in
the days of john birch
mandatory sunday mass
i the disruptor still trying to dream
through to the end.
Whose nightmare it was.
Roaming the world through its sewers
some on, some off.
There's a price to pay.
Savoring a smooth cool barrel
with all that implies.
A fascination all my own.
Not any business of theirs they knew
but looked the other way
refusing our existence by those eyes
There are no more pioneers.
Everyone knows everything yet no one
knows one damn thing worth knowing
Abominations that for nothing else can be
when labels run out
no longer marginalized
instead simply ceased
It should take another two weeks.
Bodies called to mind are steeped in salt
4 hours ago