Three lambs and
two dreams got
shattered that day.
A dead hoarding with
bleeding lights
and a grandma wrinkles
was saying something but
who cares?
I was drumming with
the disasters and humming
with flames of youth
and games of Bluetooth.
The pen store owner
with a zen tummy
and a comet mood
was rearranging the shop.
I got little attention in the store
my mood
seeing that
evaporated or rather
stomped.
I know that gravity bends light and
sanity ends fight
but on that day it was shown that
profanity begins a dark night.
Thy Vox 
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