When the city's stacked with bodies
six to eight stories high,
how much lack of human decency
does it take to stay alive?
When the internet stream rubs one out,
and traffic lights perspire,
take wobbly steps on sacred stones
where once our feet relied.
And somewhere 'tween the folds of dawn
and the thick spit of midnight,
the White House storefront sells out
of mango sticky rice
and the buildings haven't ate for days,
ribs sharp before my eyes.
It's then I look upon the smothered sun,
ask, why am I alive?
To feed the fleas and maggots.
Foul flesh is free to dine.
Hide deep inside the carpeting,
under furniture,
along the folds of blinds,
where nothing much can grow, as
foul flesh is free to dine.
©2024 | K.F. Hartless
Camila Cabello “Godspeed”
Cover Art: Chris Coles
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
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