4220 days in orbit

feel these de-orbiting fiery fragments

the leftovers to be given out while they last

from the flaming core of my inferno

where innocent fortune shifted slowly

into decades of useless transparency

about to vanish as if it did not exist at all

This was inspired by the dull fact that I’ve been soon employed a dozen of years by the same company. Sometimes it’s not so glamor job at all.


This poem is an example from yet unpublished volume
currently identified as "I wish it was Texas"
by Yumatzuga (2005-2020).

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