recently it seems that the world has been so depressing that it’s funny;
fall is here and just like every vancouver october
obese gray clowns bleed from the sky
their essence pooling in the streets
wetting my shoes and spreading disease
i see them each morning when i walk past the mercedes that line up at the lights
the trees noticed this too
and accordingly shed flakes of flesh
to decay in the streets
they gave up for their winter
yet i’m trapped in mine
fuck illusions of happiness that are vodka club fake tan weekends
all i could ask for anymore is my off white powder grit blanket
that i’m setting in flames to tomorrow anyway
i traded my life for a list of names
three actually
within are more than a thousand names
and aliases
yet only one matters
thank you
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