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,


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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