prattle off and die old man
get the death rattle cough and die
so can you just leave me alone
until you decide to go on your own

roll,
roll over,
turn tricks
in your grave for all i care
throw the man a phone he could make it
with the way he mimics grace's moan
(thats a fakin' it)
halt at the
bordercrossing
platitudes and race's
roadbend just around the
giant willow tree in a cold
rising mist inexplicaply
torn from the landscape of
an inverted cousin
inbred beyond all event horizon
possiblities