Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 2019
I've coughed up ***** of pill soaked cotton,
every morning.
Everynight it's like there should be shows on tv showing how rough life is.
But it's not,
it's a business that's built a cathedral
and stitched ups sides of all the folks that were lied to.
In order to stay true
to nihilism and anarchy
it occured to me
that the final way to stay in my lane is my sitting my ***
in hot sad littered with lizards and all the water in my upcycled big gulp cup.
It *****.
And I'm scared.
Because they took my stray away, and with out lids, it the woods,
i can't keep the ice to stay cold in my drink.

It's the first inkling of poor people killing for schillings of basic disposal needs,
but the rich folks greed will instill into us
landfill thinking.

Like we're supposed to be sinking on the ship we were shanghaied on.
T R S
Written by
T R S  29/M
(29/M)   
203
   S Olson
Please log in to view and add comments on poems