take a picture of this lives that whisper low and soft like desiccated leaves of yesterday’s plasticine lovers buried in shallow graves old songs and new of love betrayed or bitterly entangled some that withered on the vine or were stolen in the dead of night and eventually strangled a billion working stiffs eat when they are able while bands of renegade junkies feast upon their entrails so indelicately dangled
they said the fighting was over so we would drop our guard then they sucker punched us with world war three staged in our back yard there’s an app built into your
phone that turns your mind to
mush and replaces all your
memories with electrostatic slush this is as a voice preaching to the
deaf whose words would make you
blush if you were of the living and weren’t already crushed
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