Illicit Ending
A Poem

A struggle through the barricaded hope, a revolution of numbers and quality Stark breath a wounding of the air while the lungs fumble about for the autopilot who called in sick Technically pushed to the brink then reefing on the larger picture the bare sterility of putting one nostril in front of the other Grinding into the cosmic veil of well-formed ignorance a new internal crushing scalded streets unopened business, limping everywhere Golden scapegoats look down from the peak of every roof The time it takes to offer condemnation is vanishing quickly
J.D. Harms 2020
