the flowers lay torn
with seeds split into thorns
loose ends are dead ends
where the rose bed once slept.

city of sawdust and debris
freezing beer exploding
the roads lead nowhere
in the papier-mâché maze.

milk jugs sit solid at doorsteps
with bubble domes of ice
ribbons hang from bridges
celebrating the new millennium.

crossbars peak out of overgrown grass
where parks hide the dead
under the weeds and leafless trees
a hostage where crows perch on cacti -

my home is a cemetery where i wait to die.