Rats nibble your thoughts this morning;
snakes devour the visceral world.
Nothing says I love you like an AM *******.
History removes her clothes and drops
to her battered knees, mouth open,
white as a bled-out corpse in an abattoir.
An ill wind whips up despair
and the sun has taken a terminal holiday.
Still, life isn't all that bad
if you can avoid the tyranny
of women, careers and money.
Worst case, your bones freeze together
and the bills pile up like mountains.
Ignore them and don't take art too seriously.
Let history's talented maw do its work.
You chose to be a poet and
there will be other mornings.

~mce