A tower of thundering phrases
collection bins and bottle caps
Twisted hunks of screeching metal
Frozen and rusting on the sun bleached plain
Dirt bleached white, like snow
A great scar on the earth.
This is what I am becoming.
To the thousand huddled masses.
I'll tell a thousand lies and words,
careful and true sound and solid,
but always full of this decay.
We're all full of this decay.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
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