June, Dead

I died on a ventilator, but the good news
is instant access to freedom unrelated
to excited visionaries, young lions,
zealots, wanted pass-times or having
a home. Listening to music (Killing
Joke) my morbid curiosity at the
ordinary neighbor's names and things
(art studios, beatboxes, catwalks, dressage)
caused extreme reaction in
underaged boys (runaway inflation),
whose steep grades and total domination
at this unbraided hour draws June's
demise to a quiet close desperation.


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