Viewer discretion is ill-advised.
My well-intended deviation
from the expectations of my clique
will very shortly derail.
Love is a hailstorm, after all –
protect your head.
The would-be dead are coming up
from their half-assed tombs
to greet the should-be living
with “fear in a handful of dust.”
Hell-or-high-water slides
deftly into the background noise
left us by some moody bureaucrats.
A real, honest shindig for the ages.
Naturally, my stagnating wages
have a thing or two to say about all this,
but they lack the necessary language
to correctly articulate
whatever particular thoughts
they’ve manacled themselves to.
Debacles all around!
And the antique stage
on which all this takes place
sinks into a bog of its own creation.
Desperation clicks into gear.
All bets or off, then on, then off again.

-r. miller

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