Saturday, August 16, 2025

stew

the distant streets 
define the day
with these replete
directionless ways
breathing in this war 
the flowers it begets
as hollow at the door
would we could forget
i cut my heart 
to flee the room
two worlds apart
ai fervent womb
the pomp and sanctimony
fuck your calls to ties
wreaks e'er as disharmony 
ribboned in your lies
impressed were you?
with all our aerial might
insipid slow-burn stew
then later hell ignites
the game is not desired
by any reasoned state actor
in circles we are mired
repeating now what came before 

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