Death and Taxes

Living in the shade of a hundred fears

Those indefinite trembles that shatter our tendons

That drop us in the ninth place we deserve to be

We leave the worms behind as we scavenge

We sift through the remnants of us

Hoping to find the origin of our headlessness

The grooves in our flesh have been smoothed over

Mended by rotted sweetness and its fifth parallel

We lose track of our infernal complex

We take the arduous way down

The slowest path through moisture's decay

It will be a long time going

Oscillation fills the cavity

Where they sing concrete songs

And honey drips from the branches