After hours, brain blasted,
shall I learn to be ephemeral?
Perennial mischief showers.
Accidental flowers fringe the font.

Don’t make a maelstrom of this,
nor argue circles with the squares.
Even the most timely of repairs
won’t save me from the sloganeers

repackaging unfounded fears
for mass consumption.
I don’t like the look
of your assumptions, champ;

so chomp on this — your hierarchy’s busted.
Come at me whilst I dig deep
in this distress, overdressed of course,
but that’s just my M.O.

-r. miller

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