the storm and then the
silence before the storm that follows
pale yellow skies over car crashes
and prayers and the
steady buzz of insects
the river
where your son took his life
the hills repeating themselves
endlessly in all directions
you get tired of being told
what to do but so what?
your choices come down to a
diet of bitter shit or a
diet of starvation, and even these
are offered grudgingly
and so you live or you
die and the world keeps
crawling forward
the house on fire
becomes
the palace of ashes
call it home
dig your grave
you have a long life ahead
of you still, but
it’s best to be prepared
No comments:
Post a Comment