deepundergroundpoetry.com
the good old days
sitting in front
of my coffee
the world turns
to shit,
what else is
new.
windows afraid
to look outside.
caught in the
crosshairs
of the day,
the sink throws
up in disgust,
not one damn
good revolution
in the air.
where are all the
mad men?
the manifestos?
the Caesars?
probably riding
around in hybrids,
monetizing
YouTube.
how far away from
the Gods we have
fallen.
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