Your animals, are all dead
Your scenery, a chasm recycled
Your conclusions, temporary

Your leftovers, aren’t hungry
Your gyms, occupied and empty
Your ***, missionary

Your wealth, poorly sought
Your depth, see the second line
Your groceries, a dollar short of mine

Your plagues, rehearsed til true
Your wage, spent to amuse
Your sage, bottom shelf at the back

Your relationships, are melted buoys
Your complexities, remain toyed
Your mirrors, indifferent

Your fantasies, live on T.V
Your property, a loan that bleeds
Your arguments, sit at the baseline

Your seconds, triumph
Your minutes, tangle
Your hours, stay

Your days, lose sleep
Your weeks, fail to keep
Your months, ask for better permission

All these years...and I’ve boarded up.