Time passes strangely in the days of Corona
Pacing their carpeted cages
Pale, listless ghosts
Scroll news feeds ceaselessly as
Acellular microorganisms
Permeate every fevered thought
Belligerent banner-wavers march
Sowing infection vectors
Late Spring graves from April blooms
Their defiant snake coiled and hissing
Don’t cough on me
While the (casino) king prevaricates
And Governors prognosticate
The bored masses masticate
And fitfully masturbate
Their night terrors
This novel thing divides us
Like some cancerous mutation
We shed empathy like virus
Growing wary of outsiders
And argue with deniers
Whom we hate now more than death.
©2020
Words and image are my own.
The novel thing and the orange thing in office. Ha’ This is profound and should be published everywhere.
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Aw gee. Thanks, Tosha.
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You’re welcome.
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