Wednesday, January 10, 2018


the blue tinge in the sky
is rushing up to meet the night
as the moon floats inwards
on a boat made of stars

watching us kill, fuck, die
less than insects, more than gods
drowning in the gutters, seeking skies
pushing through, against all odds

the dark grey of night
is an orange hue of hope
awakening, enlightening
the power to cope

with the bullshit and the lies
as the teeth threaten to bite
with hate on their lips, rage in their eyes
we stare, we stare

at the turquoise-tinted skies

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