Saturday, December 7, 2019

Bright illuminating lights 
Moving like an apocolypse
Crawling over the hot sweaty curve in night
The sweating, the honking the breathing
A bunch of metal gleaming 
And shining, slippery and
Wet, darkness
Boom
I close my eyes and I see them
Crawling over that hill in a snail's pace
A rat race a machine a churning villain a hill spilling them out
More like oozing

Wednesday, December 4, 2019

The handshake 2