Million miles from civility,
Stars blotted out by old blood.
The room is silent, mind screams,
Frozen outside and in for today.

I’ll stick this knife in my own guts,
Safer now for you, normalcy for me.
Pressure builds blows past the cap,
These are the days of: “don’t give a fuck.”

Safe harbors built from toxicity that sticks,
Here old men tell tales of past wars long lost.
Drydocked for being real and spitting reality,
Never a sheep nor shepherd but this full moons rising.

Peaceful here as one can be swaddled in dyed cotton,
Woven from the things you pull right from the skin.
Temporary disconnection notice, all must evacuate,
Even though the real issue is no one is here at all.
Thomas Spychalski


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