A Month of Some Days

 
Like really bad

toilet

(paper)

humor

we have broken up w

everyone. . .

simply

e-v-e-r-y-o-n-e

including that a**hole

our erstwhile everyone

disliked

–and has—

(like opinions)

added to handbasket

(already brimmin’

w the unhygienic version of hell)

ditching handbasket, then

in favor of forklift,

(and pitchfork accessory: step off, I say, step the f*rk off)

we’ve purchased

conciliatory comfort

food by the pallet

(emergency rations)

& bunkered in for some

undeserved

“me” time

(rationale: emergency)

unhinged by sudden surfeit of deprivation

snapping selfie

after

cell fee

–temporarily waiving in mirrors–

we’ve squandered

personal daze spanning spectrums

(soothing solitude to demoralizing desolation)

going

up↑

 up↑

  up↑

w

  down↓

 down↓

down↓

time

looking for that

flattening

of a

(bell)

curve

ball

–the one a divided & fed up to

^here^

world

lobbed–

on the off chance

we’ll miss

–forgetting

those drowning

polar bears. . .