sneak like the
i wonder
bluster the rain
the rude rain
the bureaucratic
the wind
sneak under
the decrees
tell to fail
can they
can i duck
can i fuck
make a full good
this job’s fucked
not mere half cocked
incompetence
string and scissor
half repair
no future
this island’s
trap and trapped
not marx’s gold
& monkey’s hand
there is no gold
only burnt sense
that craic
the moat
the end of language
so if i turned
built
made my own castle
burned mud
i’d trap me there
an ant
a house
marx’s gold
abandon it to be
the less you own
the less trap
i should
if i can’t carry
discard
the trap
they are
surrender the job
back to the cobweb coyboys
winter rain
a violent accost
attested and gathered
met
a violent accuse
to do a good job
tried
the violence
of endemic
it’ll do
incompetence
the corporation
must policies
of peered
make do
run along
a later
make tomorrow’s collapse
someone else’s grief