molting
scratching the surface,
we’re struggling to shed the skin
of our dysfunction
impending

the sky wears a scowl
just before it opens up
and begins to howl
rendezvous
meet me ’round the bend
at some point before the end
before it’s too late
granted
we never question
the wisdom of people who
confirm our beliefs
red logic
a majority can’t
decide whether to vote, but
a minority can?
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