Post-Magic Rituals

every day i sleep too late
every day starts the same
coffee, holy water, mainframe
sky tells me what tunes to play
get a good hard sob today!

weave words for the Fates
go for a jog before too late
tend to those without hate
brush my teeth, wash my plate

my mother’s eye isn’t open
rush around the mountain hopin’
for whom should i be votin’?
volcanoes my gun totin’
you, dear reader,
were always chosen.

raised proper, black hole of scythe mirrors
2020 transition lenses always clearer
even before pestilence, please not nearer
secrets you don’t want to hear,
er

never mind!

Published by mikelenczycki

Not Anybody.

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