Costume Meth
Self-made-Sisyphus marching barrel after barrel of melt across the rocky earth,
Rough cut diamonds,
Dismantling Queen Frostine’s ice palace a brick at a time,
Wonder becomes was and will be, the town takes back its image between coal stained mounds.
We uncover our time to bury it somewhere else,
Little graves for every choice we make.
Psychedelia and impatience steering the ship this week between the rocks and shoals.
“Maybe I’m just miserable all the time,” she said.
Not for the first time, nor the last my dear,
Our time is slipping away, grain by jagged, bitter grain.
I stand on the opposite bank of the raging river between us,
Straining to watch your every move, straining to hear your every complaint,
Silently mouthing,
“Me too”
“Me too”
“Me too”
And all around the world without consumes.









