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Clem Dec 2016
numbness upon
beholding
mangled roadkill,

i cried for hours once
when i went to the skating rink
instead of the carnival

most outgrow
their crybaby stage

i grew into
mine

i love to sit on
the sharp-****** shore
and watch, wait
for the next wave
to destroy 3 months' work

the gritty, hamd-scooped sandcastle
mercifylly spared by some
of my white-tipped peaks

obliderated
by the occasional
flash of monstrosity
im a ******* jfc
Brent Kincaid Oct 2016
We load the road of our success
With boulders of forgetfulness,
Stumbling each time again
As if we were but mindless men.
Shrunken, looking drunken,
Mumbling, some grumbling,
We were people, but barely,
Rarely standing up to stress.
Preferring to dress in the rags
Like hags and hobos, up to elbows
In the trash we bought with cash
Instead of buying our birthrights
Back from those who ****** us
Then ignored us, we were needing,
Some bleeding, and dying
And nobody but us was crying.

We’d carry all those speed bumps
We carefully crafted with our hands
And let them stand before us
To deter us and divert us every day
But not in a diverting way like TV.
It was a travesty, a mummer’s play
In which we each played our part
But, not like art come to life, oh no
It was a horror show for fools
And it was our own tools and effort
That pulled together to create a ride
In a non-amusing park of suicide.
Many of us don’t notice the slide
Until everybody and everything
Is on the upside and we are not.
It’s a kind of mental, moral rot.
Then the travesty became a tragedy
For you and for me, endlessly.

— The End —