My near-childlike innards
rumble truthfully as I eye stupidly
the lumbering clouds spilling
their own against the paste-white sky.
Everything within limits.
The here smells of sour penitence,
the there, of burning fuel and indecent fortitude.
Given this, it’s a miracle that I’m anywhere.
Come on now, don’t be so uninspiring.
Unload a delicious smile
on the waiting populace
and respire more freely.
Our time is now and more ethical than ever!
As for the gracious greasefed nevermind
scrolling o’er my bleary eyes, well,
we’ve got some plans for that,
all of them unmedicated and cantankerous.
Simply over-water your liberty and see.
-r. miller
Rain Today
Published
*Insert Propaganda Here* 