Today’s Been Slaughtered

Earbud streetlights,
the night wears a smoke disguise,
a plane reverse dives, as
skyscrapers run for their lives.
Today’s been slaughtered;
the sky’s a killing house:
entrail chemtrails,
chopped up bits,
joints and tips.
Clouds fade to
a stiletto knife but
don’t believe the hype.
The minutes may have squealed,
but the hours took their own lives.
It takes the main vein
to get the stratosphere to drain.
Nothing quantifiable survives
the flush and sweep of evening skies.
Not even time to shout
before it is lights out.


  1. It was a tortured sky. I get time for lines at long lights, but I also do a voice memo if I can’t get my hands on my journal. The worst is when the line is there, and Siri won’t cooperate. Thank you for reading and connecting with me.


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