a poem by RC Miller
I prefer to spark over a morning rush.
More tax on the rich and an even redistribution
Of wealth is inevitable.
I'm as skilled as the sadness of Japan.
Reading the past
Going past I stagger
In segments refilling a phantom involvement.
What matters is worth money much like my boring problems.
The rain taps madness.
And your looks drain, and I too look
At random aromas between our teeth.
Private brandings exist for the sake of domesticity.
Sarcastic traps burn within us all.
Truly sacred paths destroy what we concern.
Obscure and insulting blurs mean the most to me.