How do I like the view, you ask?
The lake is dead water
the moon a glory-hole cut in the sky’s canopy
through which the gods fuck us,
and speaking of fucks, I have none left to spare.
Behind my breastbone is a toxic shudder
I can’t tell if it’s panic, rage,
or mere indifference made larger-than-life,
but I want to take this jacked-up Jeep and drive it up the ass
of everything that once made me human.