Over 365 days

Toilets clogged.

Showers broken in half, necks spitting water.

All the systems are drained in rust as you witnessed toilet paper bags being dragged out of the stores last year and before according to mathematics.

Lost lives, faceless lovers. If life became a commodity, maybe a dime for a prayer? I did it when I visited St. Patrick's Cathedral in 2019. Few regrets. 

Before I thought of you, lost and loved, so many, unknowingly taken, eaten by the earth, mouth wide open, skies abruptly shaken. 

Toilet paper, whole chicken 'giblets removed', spaghetti: going, gone. Life stills briefly as I ponder my own grief. Where is a good place to be. A call from home, at least.

I saw a homeless wearing a mask better

than my neighbor wears his manners. In case you were wondering, masks were spotted in the ocean, on sidewalks, crumpled under cars seats. Masks wearing masks to the wide circle of their interests. Shit show.

A stoic doctor whispered a praying song as she prepared to wear all the medical paraphernalia she needed to use in order to live a little longer. Her and theirs, lives barely hanging. 

Last years haven't resigned.