Day 1588

…What scapular trash

Wanders the desert sets 

Of vain dreams unearned

What venomous cackles 

Erupt at the mention of 

Self-interest without pomp

What gnashed jaws wet 

At the flippant exploitation 

Of strangers inability to reconcile how often their father said ” I love you”

And all for the delicate price 

Of time you wouldn’t get back regardless of how it was spent…


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