Keep typing, talking, 

and tootling along, stumbling 

towards infinity 

An empty can tossed 

from a car window — sloth

or provocation? 

The insects invade,

come crawling, covering all

with hunger and lust 

Each morning he walks 

to the river without a 

word from his blank face 

In the garden the 

dead whisper to the living 

"your time is coming" 

The Ferris wheel's shut

down and only the seagulls'

frantic cries remain 

The lynch without rope,

prosecute without a trial,

and lie with a smirk