Pumpkins sallow on the doorstep of mono America. A womb is now a rental market, pawned to stow America. Paragons of decay charge forward like rabid trees Splitting hairs across indiscriminate mouths of faux America. Charred cigars rain down on our Elysian Fields, burning the Hearts of groaning wall-climbers; defeated, cut down—woah, America. The eyes of the chalk-face bleed out their exorcisms. Show them a rainbow and they will shut numb, sick about co-America. Choice is a flying pig; naked as hatred. Overnight, the asylum has vacated its pearls—oh, America.
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Yeowww!
These words, posted in the immediate night, are so despairing, so beyond angry, so thoroughly infuriated, hammering her fist on the table while stuck in the shadow of a monumental, bruising country. Great writing.