State of the Union

i
upon the sidewalk that children and mothers stroll
while shopping for glamorous trinkets
whose worth will evaporate into nothing
during the car ride home,
are the dark splattered stains of misjudgment.
lined in a row at the base of the wall,
cowering in the corner,
unapologetically in the center, mid-stumble,
their memory endures beyond the night’s.

ii

the hollow light box bleats
questions, amazement, concern, analysis, commentary.
about the untimely, tragic death
of a drug addicted, pillaging white trash whore
impregnated by a faceless seed.
when i asked the girl
exchanging my plastic card for beer
‘who really cares?’
her answer stammered out with flashing eyelids
honestly shocked at the notion:
‘i’m just worried about her baby.’

indeed.

iii
the yellow metal monster rips across the landscape
with the indifference of a hand to mosquito.
what took a lifetime to build is cleared in minutes.
the grave marker posted at the asphalt’s black edge reads
‘ivy woods coming soon.’
their majesty replaced with dried and hollow carcasses,
fallen friends clumsily piled high
in the dumb repetition of a skipping record.
the only means of survival
is sucking out the sweet marrow of life
as a parasitic cancer on the land.

iv

i want only
to want what i need.
i’m supposed to want;
want what I need and more
until want becomes need.
needing to want is what they want.
they want me to need them.
they need that, not me.
i need what I don’t want,
i’ll never need what i want.
Want is wont,
but wanton need is worse.
i don’t want to want.
i don’t want to need.
why can’t i just be?