Yard Sale of Thoughts

Electric cars & exploding stars

We ripped the windshield off the car,
but expected it to be less traumatic.

The naked sky is covered in chain links.
Paranoia 
spills from the adrenal glands.

I'd give my right arm to numb the scams,
be less psychosomatic,
blink.

Put my personality in a jar,
grapple with the eye strain and back pain
of a lifetime of bureaucracy.

Divert the fear, 
                             so it makes less impact.

But these days, worry's automatic
as the sky train
                             jumps
                                          the track
an unmanned mission
in a solar system 
under the scalpel,

headed towards a future, 
botched & marred.

©2025 | K. F. Hartless

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The Lumineers “Automatic”

Cover Art: PsychoShadow ART