Silence

Sometimes when it's under cover quiet
in the lonesome peaceful night
when the newest scam's done shouting at our eyes and fried egg brains
and the beast's stopped propagating poisoned air
and the vans and yellow coats and blackened teeth are gone for now
For now
we can hear our own voices
maybe silent almost imperceptible
screaming and writhing to be free or fight or cry
from constant noise and daily trauma and why is everything dying or dead or outrageously preposterous rich
in the daylight safe sunlight
where compassion supposedly prospered

Paper Straws

The clouds are a bowl of appropriated

fucking poisoned oatmeal

on sunken hues

of navy blue

and carbonated so carbonated teal

Sucking us further always further into

a storm of which there is no relent

one of fire and flooding

and broken Earthen bones.





But what does it matter

you gotta live your life right?

Drive your car

suck on the lactating tit

of craven consumerism

and nothing beats a factory farmed steak

Right?





Paper straws

You gotta save us

please

we ain’t gonna do it ourselves.