Like it’s my job or something

When you were languishing in rooms I built to foul you
in. And when the wind set down in funnel form and pulled you
in.
I don’t need to walk around in circles.
And when the ghostly dust of violence traces everything.
And when the gas is drained, just wreck it, you insured the
thing.
But I can’t sigh now that you made the move; it has gone
and gone to dogs; lay down on the floor. For the right price
I can get everything; slip into the car; go driving to the
farthest star.

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