Blank Stares Bashing

Ease and precision, putrefaction
of ways and means,
upsells vacant lot
mind numb fiction.
With diction, purpose, painstaking excess,
we catalogue these here limits imposed.
Capital outpaces willing,
wants merely to replicate
strata of catastrophe.
Hold me under these gilded waters.
Hold me by the neck
or by the lips in one cathartic kiss.
I seethe with bliss
at the blank stares bashing
like restless waves against my own.
Clarity cut to ribbons,
understanding undermined
by unfulfilled hungers.
We long for something fulgent
in this shadowy waste.
Dust and dereliction
are all that we receive.

-r. miller

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