Pour poison on the anthill, white stinking powder
Weeds sprout among flowers, days broken into hours
Leaving my cigarette butts all around town, every ashtray
Trying to find a way, forward or anywhere honestly
The circle I'm stuck in has me seeing meteor showers
Peeking out curtains in the dark, looking for something, cold and yearning
Discerning the turning point, dogs barking at shadows
Spitting at the moon to spite it, another hopeless battle
Lying blue pen draws nothing but black plastic stars, sparkling
Chasing Demeter through our parking lot planet, plastic bumper crop paradox