a poem by RC Miller



The time I finally leave our apartment gets later everyday.
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.

Shovels struggle for luck and align counterweights.
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 a-rapping,
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.

Orange glob of moon,
Stars nipped.
Sarcastic traps burn within us all.
Truly sacred paths destroy what we concern.
Obscure and insulting blurs mean the most to me.

© RC Miller

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