forty years there,

he claimed he had not

missed seattle.

so they placed me by

the exit escape.

looking through the window,

I saw my flashing fate.

one vile

two viles

three viles

four.

How many full of blood?

You asked them not to rob you.

Only you understood.

Sorrow screamed from my

empty gut.

"Worry not,"

you whispered.

It is not your fault.

We live on,

It was not our time.

The warped screwdriver,

made in China.

Touched by millions

passed on the life

inside the object.

Forget my desires,

wakefulness, please

lead me.

**** the money that drives me.

**** the money that drives you,

too.