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.