Shorter Days

"It takes all kinds to make the world"  

Even pieces of shit like you.  
 
The sun shines and sets  
and that's all we get  
before nights impending  
doom.  
 
The boom and loom.  
 
Thoughts are circling like hungry  
vultures waiting for another part  
of me to die.    
 
Throwing cracked corn upon  
cracked earth seems like medicine  
to the mind.  
 
The scattering of offerings  
for the wild things to find,  
then hide,  
for later use.  
 
It's all obtuse  
kick me in the caboose  
and tell me this life  
isn't true,  
I, myself am hoping for a dream.