Your animals, are all dead
Your scenery, a chasm recycled
Your conclusions, temporary
Your leftovers, aren’t hungry
Your gyms, occupied and empty
Your ***, missionary
Your wealth, poorly sought
Your depth, see the second line
Your groceries, a dollar short of mine
Your plagues, rehearsed til true
Your wage, spent to amuse
Your sage, bottom shelf at the back
Your relationships, are melted buoys
Your complexities, remain toyed
Your mirrors, indifferent
Your fantasies, live on T.V
Your property, a loan that bleeds
Your arguments, sit at the baseline
Your seconds, triumph
Your minutes, tangle
Your hours, stay
Your days, lose sleep
Your weeks, fail to keep
Your months, ask for better permission
All these years...and I’ve boarded up.