A
fault-line
Tripped
implosion
Careened—
Leveling
this sacristy.
Calloused
toes,
Barefoot—
Skin
atop corroded nail,
Filtered
rust to vein,
Futures
collapsed under
Rotted
board.
Uselicity
vanquishing
Rational
defense.
Pain
so rigid
It
feels like death.
The
raven and the vulture
Hover
above this home’s empty shell.
Circling…in
wait
For
maggots to appear.
Some real down and dirty negativity today, those maggots should just go away. Nasty beneath my feet, and buzzards over head. I don't want to be dead..haha
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