Untitled 2014 12 10

This coaster,
don't roll.
It sticks to a veneer.

Stamped out carbon cartons,
don't dull the shrill call of dry c**t's.

These legs,
arms,
carry aches,
gains,
and losses.
To the free fooling tossers,
that flew flags,
of their own.

A middle.
Less than noble,
more knowing,
end.
And a beginning that bent us into twisted wrecks.
Made out of something we could,
or should have been.


Still searching the things that make us dream.