Poem I’m crossposting from Glasweigan Death Trip.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Dawdling in the burning light;
broken feet drag themselves along the cracked concrete,
past strangled chicken wire, broken necks squawking out
no city ballads
of degenerate matchstick men.

This is no place to stop and tie your laces.
They won’t even leave you with socks.
those broken feet shuffle.

Advertisements