the coming of winter

this wrought iron planet is

made up of styrofoam people.

while *can you keep a secret?*

has become a blacklight’s equal.

too much sunshine

brings us not enough rain.

prescription fuled smiles

are born of prescription pain.

the siren screams out unheard 

and the ground sets it’s teeth

knowing too many people

are well within its reach.

clothing that’s left in tweaker piles

gets eaten by moth ball critters

while the willfully ignorant sit and sip

fairtrade coffee like shit eating quitters.

everyone wants answers to their

questions but are unwilling to play

everyone wants to fuck everyone

but no one’s willing to pay.

chazbro likes to get choked out 

as he nuts inside whichever her.

it’s this and barren clotheslines

that show the fast coming of winter.