Sarin Gas Serenade

I’ll run out of analogies well before
apologies for allowing
inner anarchy to lead;
part with my empathy before
relinquishing destiny,
the little lessons ticking
time bombs teach.

Like Sarin gas serenades
orchestrated on a subway train, I’m out of step with
status quos and moral codes that choke
on mourning air.

Like any enclosed space,
oxygen is precious, and time is of the essence to
evacuate survivors just past the
southbound stairs.

I’d climb into my deathbed before
inheriting debts
the powers that
be would
leave me; morality tax evasion,
humanitarians taking liberties in
the name of
true
freedom.

Their pockets have deepened but the lesions
on my nervous
system
grow, as we
suffocate below downtown’s
surface streets for reasons only they would
know.

This is open season,
and they’re showing
us evolved snow.

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9 thoughts on “Sarin Gas Serenade

  1. i like this. the only critique i have is that you’re language seems very elevated and i’m afraid it people will spend more time looking up words than actually enjoying your poem and getting the message. good structure, and once you get past the elegant language very simple and clean.

    Like

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