Away

Having a wine glass on the way to the doctors office
I notice the pain of
Focus.
It is a tarnished glass
Messy with specs
Trickling down my mediocre
Throat.
Melancholic music is covered up till
Many men are singing.
Liven my mood, crank it down to the
Synpases.
Service trucks line my street because dollars
Mean
Convience.
Sorry distrust, with no ability to exist independently from
Them. All
Those gates, rolling inward, outward
Smartless.
Can we frolick a park, smutty with poop
and dogs?
Will you take me, authentically, away to way.