Thursday, February 13, 2020

day ONE THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED and TWENTY ONE


what you fear; what you fear more


but the age of death
is all you get

the paranoid king and his
inbred children and they’re good for a laugh,
                                                 sure,
but why waste your time with pity?

we all choose our own path to joy

we ignore the swarms of flies,
the stench of corpses

each city is built to be destroyed,
is destroyed to be rebuilt,
is rebuilt only to be destroyed again,
and at what point do you walk away?

how many years do you waste
waiting for the punchline?

and it’s never as funny as you’d hoped
once it’s been spelled out in the
blood of everyone you’ve
ever loved

--John Sweet




















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