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Parking Lot

In the parking lot they wear glass masks

And pay authority no respect.

They devour each other and pay dearly for convenience,

They build fires from accumulated Parking Tickets

 

In the parking lot, the wilderness closes in

And spills over like unconscious thoughts

Into uncontrolled hallucinations,

Glinting fangs and severed heads shift in shadow

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Written by
owen-phillips
American
Published
Mar 13, 2014
Lines·Words
8·54
Notes

6 February 2014

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