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fruits and the leaves
fruits and the leaves
no one yet bears the
fruits of their own labor
when finding out
about life
shall I compare that to missing pieces
of a puzzle?
we managed not
emerge from the ashes
of this wartime strife
can i, myself, identify them
to stop the crying wolves
with but a muzzle?
we're probably long dead
and gone like the ashen
color of concrete
yet noticing not how our
false gods assuaged
our hellish main street
collectively, we surpass it
misery loves company
or do we dare escape it -
in our weary ways, venturing out looking at
vultures in the nightsky
from dawn—til advesperascit
