happy moths

a farewell salute to the vacuum
from forming happy moths and
our arm's slowish waving




even if our bones were made of crayon, we’d find the time to kill each other simply to sketch a statement out on green paper.  it says, “i’m god.  i can buy you.”  i wonder how many tons of craft paper with crayon drawings are thrown away every day?  all the dreams tossed.  there’s another craft tomorrow.  your brutality is as equally forgotten and yet there is no joy in your destruction.  injustice isn’t stuck to a fridge with a magnet.

even if our bones were made of crayon, we’d find the time to kill each other simply to sketch a statement out on green paper.  it says, “i’m god.  i can buy you.”  i wonder how many tons of craft paper with crayon drawings are thrown away every day?  all the dreams tossed.  there’s another craft tomorrow.  your brutality is as equally forgotten and yet there is no joy in your destruction.  injustice isn’t stuck to a fridge with a magnet.