nostrathomus:

“Upon Viewing Oregon’s Landscape with the Flood of Detritus,” by Titus Andronicus

from Local Business

I saw somebody die out upon the road today;

I felt lives dissolve on side streets as that head hit the highway;

I see first responders rush in, as a white plume dissipates,

trying to pull their will to power from the flames.

Now there’s miles of angry motorists stretched as far as eyes can see -

they are a billion breathing beings, each with schedules to keep.

They get a long look at the tow truck as they sit and grit their teeth

hating that which comes between them and their coffee.

I’m on that ribbon highway, and I’ve seen some sickening things -

one good kid smashed to spinters, another wicked one crowned king -

and upon the pavement, for each and every particle of glass,

there are a thousand dreams never to come to pass,

because dreams can’t be - nor people, indeed - built to last.

I’ve adored every inch of this country through the same dirty windshield,

peeking through blotches of the blood of bugs towards the Elysian Fields.

Behold my brother’s beautiful babies! It’s obvious to see

the world’s been making plans to go on without me.

I gave my youth to yelling at rivers that refused to flood with angry tears;

now, abundant beers await to erase redundant years,

so there’s nothing for me to do now but turn the radio up loud,

put Eric’s sunglasses back on, and black it out.

Now I’m writing manifestos on old B.O.A. receipts;

I know it only is alfresco when I take meals in the streets.

There was promise in these pages once; now they rot under the rain

of their wisdom - all that remains are stains,

because just like me, they were made to be thrown away.