hexagon flies

Hexagon flies flitting,

cool, damp night, simply sitting.

Head spinning from week’s drama,

while I worry about my next comma.

Mr. Coffee pot reminds me of the hot water awaiting to be used,

I’m still thinking of some of their words, rather confused.

She called me a “sacrificial lamb,”

that was kind and all part of the great master plan.

I just hate that we run the purge the way we do,

it fills me with anxiety and rotting rue.

We pay the price of losing a positive reputation,

when there is constipated logic, or of reason, there is complete cessation.