Spun on histrionics,
a holy fuck of a situation.
Lately, I’ve taken up landscaping
as a means of easing
the pangs of solitude
I’m stuck coping with.
Upon a sick and sloping canvas,
I insert harsh, habitual lust.
Now I must be getting belligerent.
Because my reasons
leash me surreptitiously
to the spectacle.
The let-down
we’ve all been searching for.

-r. miller

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