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![Image for the poem Perdition Unto Disposition](/images/uploads/poemimages/371979.jpg?1580373359)
Perdition Unto Disposition
This perdition is coming to terms
with itself, by itself, for itself, with the lines and narrows
of the production debt seeping through the chinks
in the walls
( what) which we
protect the assets
of our "betters" from
their own matters.
Walking walking all the way it has to be it has to be.
Pedestrians dodge mechanical wonders, some getting
run down, with little more than meat mess to remember them by.
This is the deal. We came when we wanted, wanting what we
came for, only to find it nullified, negated, and soaking in tepid sewers.
There's no apology. The game is No Fault. No restitution. But
that (there) Perdition is always 'round to discomfit the survivors in any
of our dispositions.
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2020dkzkfreepoometryand bad fotograffy2020
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