The Grass is too LongMature

The grass is too long

the violent growth

the insect's home

the gone, longing feeling

"So dismember it"

I say

"It needs an amputation"

the faithful, lost streets

praying themselves into new dawn,

yesterday's dawn

Yet no one quite understands

that the grass is too long

the blades grown tall

all the while triumph timidly reigns

pebbles sparse, scattered ways

a gentle warm hum is heard

against the shadow of sun's cast

loud roaring engine

callous, cold gun

and last faithlessness



the smell of fresh cut grass

gives the housewives an orgasm.

The End

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