last night

something i wrote last night about my image in the mirror on my commute from work.

I looked like my father last night.
I had lost all my preferred colored
amidst future famine lackluster.

My desire to ramble about unlimited budgets
went southward, yet I definitely
recognized my plight.

Surviving in Essex...Masada...
turning swords into plowshares.*
Covered in amber without being alerted.

Perhaps the walking dead's "trivia" really is
" What happens after social decay"?
Reconsidering crossings of the Raritan river?






*Isaiah 2.4