Specks of dust, winding roads
Murdering fathers in dim country lights
Times for mourning & sheltering faces
Times to pull starlight from chest cavities
And drop it into chasms in the field
Listen to the bursting of the earth
Sweet jasmine smell of decay
And bloodied bed sheets
Soaking with animal lust
I told you things would never be the same
But you kept driving anyway
And now we’re going to die here
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Check out my science fiction novella, Mother Portia, on Amazon Kindle
