I wake up smelling like a vinegar factory.
Trespasses in the night have left me solid as a lamb.
Day vacations of robot transparency
repelling my soul to a void.
Mercy's departure from skies
that never knew its meaning.
Skunkflowers blossoming over the highway.
Shelters of rubber and leather that never knew a body.
Burning roads of paper cups filling up the dim atmospheres.
Dusk on the wounds of men.
Dawn coming over the picnic tables
where hands are bloodied on quills.
And a path of sand showing the way
to the gnarled fireflies.