omg…
bombs—dark clouds
of death—once again
rain down blood
upon peace
wallowing on the ground—a
saturated hemoglobin graveyard—
forever filling full: fretting futility
all stalemates
have been called off;
and the sunken well of good will
evaporates into dark decaying dryness
there’ll be no cancellation gifts
on christmas—no trees to decorate.
easter is being reconsidered—and god…
(omg)…once again faces the prospect of loneliness.