and we all woke up in a checkered past 
wondering when where who stole what 
if all of it wrangled down tied up in insolvent 
debts and mucky insomniac dreams was so 
deficiently low in supply of vitamin d and e 
b-twelve c and fuck them all decomposed 
alphabets of sorrows draining our silent songs 
from afar just mentholated clouds of tiger balm sex 
essence on the ashes of our fingers then so limber
now just the reminder of the discomfort this ode
before awakening the ogre laid to rest never
in peace still breathing dissonant old useless pleas

 © om ulloa

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