July 14, 2018

A throbbing mass

pulsing with black arteries,

plastic through veins,

rivers of tar.

The roads dug up.

Cars with no tyres,

no paint,

rusted stuck.

Industry on the pyre,

back turned,

facing

a rubber shot.

July 14, 2018

2016 was a terrible year,

They said.

Funny, because whenever I woke up

7am felt like any year in bed.

Drunk then, instead -

Illusions of a dream.

Shattered, at 7am,

It was unforeseen, they said.

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