expired long before she left,
rats in the wall tiles,
tires popped by force,
the mud and smoke and wine piss
stuck in nostrils
days, months,
years after she waved adios
Is that what PTSD stinks like?
rotten corpses and rottener souls?
Breaking f'ing news,
shouted the powers that be,
a wind storm, a circus train,
bones in the creek,
Blizzard warnings? Don't heed them,
Crime tape, 2 a.m.? Rush to the scene.
Danger be damned.
Its for the people, by the people,
while from the people she ran.
Fire on the mountain,
rumors in the mill,
beep beep, shakes awake,
the alarm clock has five hours still.
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