We’ve lived to kill another day-
under jumbled sheets of cheap paper,
this cardboard coffin.
These should have been doodles,
sketches, or love notes.
Paper airplanes would have been more useful.
Oh, to be set free.
Wasted words become
become files that
We should have built houses out of the boxes.
We build more boxes to store more boxes.
Outside of these boxes,
Russian nesting dolls that comfort no one.
When we reach our destination, will the station still be there?
Am I wasting time,
is time wasting me?
The grass is always greener.
as far as
the naked eye can see.
After a long day/week/lifetime at a job that I hated, I strung together this beltfeed of disgruntled bullets.