nirvana

Private lives of parrots and guinea pigs are full of incredible bullshit.
Sky after sky fall into muddy brooks,
sky after sky hide inside stolen mirrors,
winds and breezes are lost in children’s garments.
May flowers become knives cutting the walls,
may flowers become the memories of insane supermarket cashiers.
Every fucking morning flatbed trailers deliver giant corpses,
corpses hastily covered by black tarp to a jerkwater nirvana.

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