They wanted to go, but not today

But how many ways can you split the infinitive?

The wars upon the seashore harbor regrets of their own

Sanguine colors in the sand

They are reminders of blood filled horizons

Nonetheless, the tide that day offered only strangulation

Into the deep they went, never to return

In simpler times, they buried their dead at sea

Now they come to rest precisely where they fall

It's the new math: count on your fingers and toes the number of blows

But how many ways can you split infinity?

i can't meet my own family
have to stay inside among a
room of blinds and strangers
isolated from my close ones

it is the worst day of my life
no other chance no other light
ridiculously lonely fights
gimme some space and a new face

painful memories in the making
there's no time for aching
no catchy phrases no money
i'll be dead soon right before noon

covid-19 is a strong breed
and it needs me as his feed
got no time left for crying
my dears i will be dying

Waterworks are failing

Nile faucet tears

***** powder salt

Plague blood wine

Fermented analgesic sea

Swallow Ebers papyrus

Swallow ******'s scroll

Raze the periscope, this is no crusade

Born blind under duress

They sink mid-thigh in pools of acronym

Copper pennies at their toes

Can't wish for things they haven't been
taught to believe

Steal them instead

They'll get a parade for far less

But then again the winds might turn

The sea might divide master and slave

And there they shall be peeing their pants

"In caelum fero--we make our mark"

You picked a bad day to fight, Egyptian

I love you so much
that I would share my toilet
paper with you, babe

10:50 PM
12/3/20

We live in
troubled times,
where leaders fail
and pandemics prevail.
Mass hysteria is
the only game in town-
society's going down
because we cannot hear,
and we cannot think
over the turmoil
spreading across
our soil.

Like a
            h
            u
            r
            r
            i
            c
            a
            n
            e
At first a haphazard
                                  d
                                   r
                                   i
                                   z
                                   z
                                   l
                                   e
Then a deadly
           d
           o
           w
            n
            p
            o
            u
            r

Of beak-masqued terrorists
                                     i
                                     n
                                     v
                                      i
                                      s
                                      i
                                      b
                                       l
                                       e

Threatens each unguarded
                 m
                 o
                 m
                 e
                 n
                 t

Fear grows everywhere suspicion
                                     l
                                     u
                                     r
                                     k
                                     s

Yesterday’s mosquito makes tomorrow’s
               g
               h
               o
               s
               t

It’s the season’s ungiving
                                      p
                                      a
                                      n
                                      i
                                      c

No remedy : only the sky’s massive closed door and
                  t
                  i
                  m
                   e
                   l
                   e
                   s
                   s
                   n
                   e
                   s
                   s