Late.

Left the house twice
in a week or more, who knows.
Consumed with the urgency
of keeping away from others.
Spitting good intentions with
every s and k, syllables washed away.
Suddenly the ability to be anything,
do anything, it’s unveiled –
honey glazed propaganda.

So many roads that the white lines
all but flood the tar, boiling black
painted over with nonsensical suggestion.
Go here. This way. Stay safe.
The never ending promise that later
will be worth the wait.

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