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Jun 2020
Spiraling down into heaps, ragged and gray, cracked crockpot hip sway
How many times a day do the flies find dead lips
Violence equips violence, self perpetuated static hate
Powers of state observed through grates, through threadbare shirts as they disintegrate
Inflating the lie, runflat tires crushing thighs, for his mom he cries
How do your eyes hold dripping pitchers back, how much empathy do you lack?
Another body in another sack, probably shot multiple times in the back
Every corner and crack, possibility of attack, push it back daily
Thoughts in a melee, trading our rights for false safety
Splitting pennies like atoms, copper holocaust, entomb our species in plastic, carelessly tossed
Dripping crowns of white phosphorus, the loss is lost on us
Leaning less, standing lone, taking photos of bleached, dry, bone
Keeping flowers company in their lonely limestone home
Amongst screaming junipers, with eviscerating tones, I found no true companion, alone alone alone
Patrick Kennon
Written by
Patrick Kennon  33/M/x
(33/M/x)   
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