Some days you're ready to die
Defeat smells different than fear
It is the perfume of hopelessness
Where the ride ends safely
But you wonder what else it could be
A poppy plant?
Festive log?
A damaged fence or rusty caliper?
Talking to you is punishment enough
In the long-winded sewer of sentences
Where one could serve life in earshot
We have the scars to prove -
Battery terminals at both ends
And Halloween masks
Resembling the common errors
Stepping down is slanted
When you can roll
Roll
Barring any discrepancy
I will leave when I am supposed to
Shutting books and shudders loudly
Locking windows
Paying respects
With zero fucks
In monk fashion
With a barrel of beer
Swinging from my neck
What's next?
Is it any matter?
We frigidly say there is space
And fire in the cauldron
But we know better
Than to test plasma
At closer than 600 light years
