Trees and things resembling
trees ease through the thinly
misted dark. A thought
which carries no spark spins
away like a wheel upon
a rusted axel. I’ve only enough
factual information to get me
through a conversation,
but conversation’s not my game.
It inflames me to the point
of incapacity, and in these parts,
veracity is no virtue anyway.
So I’ve learned not
to say much –
-r. miller
*Insert Propaganda Here* 
Love