Autumn brunette
A dash of burnt orange
Ripe pumpkin
And pumpernickel
Layered fallen leaves
Intertwining amongst
A clear complexion
Of fresh, marble corn
Dotted with
Sparkling blueberries
The face of a fall harvest
Of beauty so common
But that doesn’t mean
I want to look away

in your garden the plants
refuse to grow
and when you take a walk
the natural things they
wilt and bend
repulsed
almost magnetically
by your presence

your a fucked-up modern
day king midas,
man

your a modern day
fucked up kind of king
midas,
man

and all around you is an
invisible force that
turns things off and
makes them die,
and on your ride to work
and on your way home
destruction is all you see

and when you go out
and the pretty things
keep dying
destruction is all you
know

but when you see a flower
you still reach out to touch it
and the pain is anew all
the time.

you look for things you know hope you can do
seeking definition in your action
but alas
“homemade roach motels”
seems like a niche already spoken for.