everything is sacred in a land of
cult suicides & envious, murderous
halfbacks gone wild in early summer
heatwaves. there is blood in the
river that runs till the end of the world.

these railroads that crisscross
the coast are like zippers holding
the muddy continent’s seaside underbelly
from engulfing the sky above,

the diner cars that roll over those
questionable bridges sell premium poisons
to folks who don’t know or don’t care,
on their way to places that are hardly even there.