life is a tupperware casket of donuts
looks like truth
tastes like chickenshit
you've urned your bed
now lie in your ashes
kill anything resembling
birds
or rising
bridges were made
so suicides could
reconsiderately
enjoy a productive life in arson
if it isn't dead
where is its ghost of a chance
crossing over
to end that perpetual
why did the poultrygeist
(do what it did to)
the road
because it could never remember
the side it just came from
& its brain,
only big enough to believe in
two-sided theories
massacred all the others
lest it lose its deathgrip
to something more
personal
like love,
or lovelike
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