mortality is so boring

mewling off to hidey hole, mortality can be so boring, julius ferraro, poetry

mewling off to hidey hole, mortality can be so boring, julius ferraro, poetry

Long shit mornings
precede long shit days and
lingering yellow stains.
We’d slouched in waiting rooms for
later on’s big
reveal, which somehow passed
through every hand in the
big marble studio without any
soul noting how nonsensical
and frustrating the twist is
ratings down, participation tanked
detractors salivating, network all
fox-eared and thinning fur
mewling off to
hidey-hole

 

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