Please piss on the period elegance.
The burst pipe in your heart.

Move to strike. Out of your mind
with mindfulness, you seize

the opportunity to lunge
through a coma with both eyes entwined.

Presence grinds, wet weather harkens
a darkening sky. Why bother?

Vocalized, misinformation
gathers at the perimeter.

We’re not safe here.
Sand gobbles thought bubbles.

Belabored, beleaguered.
The frozen thunder in your memory

begins to thaw. Pops and all.
So much driving. Mendicant cravings.

Your saving graces placed purposelessly
along the margin of error.

-r. miller


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