O'erkeenly bedizened cracklestick
layer above pure landfill

a packet from high
dudgeon, spicy corn nuts against burned mouth roof

what i say
unspools like tape from a price tag gun

it is burning in me that in my name war
burning in me that weapons

slow walk to the car
cell phone off

i speak to no one
the clock hand spins into a hard blur

how beautiful this day is


Every Day a Little Death. (via wood_s lot)