Light cursed falling lies in a singular box
as evil has many names (but the devil always
has many more). Pink-black lips inside my
mind: little crying lilac laughter splashing
the next steps (oh yea hey ‘who can save the
world?’ someone gonna save the world?)
Hey God, stop fixing that beehive
and drop that devil to the floor — strange
how evolution is less than nature’s greatest
achievement — clocks a tac-tic tac-toc
like ringing time and lilac. . .
the flower dies.
the hope follows.
:: 10262021 ::