Lost Time Incidents


Roots, resin and herb.

Delicate shards of sun.

But ever and again…

tranquility…comes undone.

Rigid flags of meaning.

Frayed and displaced.

Surging blatant truths in smoked stained fields

Revel an accompanying ‘hell on earth.’

Barking dogs harvested for defense.

Basement sale slavery…submissive innocence.

Placement of paupers below our feet.

Diligently awaiting subhuman retreat.

Far simpler to deceive on a sun’s day.

To embellish joy, as though, it were lived…hand in hand with misery.

In terms of the real life.

Veins of back-roads are frequented with decay.

There are only minimal bouts of comforting distraction…

Falling in line with the sun’s ambient rays.

 

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