9 / something

The cabin depressurizes fast,
your case is denied

We should have shot down
those damn planes

We should have filled out
the applications
by the deadline

Now it's all a media blur,
another funky reason
to write dementia off,
and a stone-cold dinner

Whose fault is it
that your Judgement Day
is our fair hearing,
and your white agony
is our yellow stickies?

Desire indifference
it's yours

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