Pour poison on the anthill, white stinking powder Weeds sprout among flowers, days broken into hours Leaving my cigarette butts all around town, every ashtray Trying to find a way, forward or anywhere honestly The circle I'm stuck in has me seeing meteor showers Peeking out curtains in the dark, looking for something, cold and yearning Discerning the turning point, dogs barking at shadows Spitting at the moon to spite it, another hopeless battle Lying blue pen draws nothing but black plastic stars, sparkling Chasing Demeter through our parking lot planet, plastic bumper crop paradox