Before the sun sets, one more dose of pain:
My archaic torso has one more hole
for complex poisons to weigh down my soul,
none of it bringing the least bit of gain.
Instead, it’s one more day of hard, slow, strain
towards another meaningless dead goal
of useless life; the whole remainder, sole
indication I had naught more to gain.
Today’s news is all hard loss, harder war,
with heavy clouds all lowering the sky
down to the height of one more human fool.
There is no prohibition, no stiff bar,
against dishonor, contra the soft lie
of street, church, pundit, and of each dumb school.
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