Words pour from their mouths
like water from a faucet
making promises
until we need them.
Until we realize they’ve said
something they shouldn’t have.
Sealed with government approval
they caw, squawk and eat away at our resolve
taunting us
stabbing us over and over
with our own
deceit.
Their black beaks
daring us to
stop them and
see
before
they mushroom
into a dark cloud
before they grow bigger
and transform into something else.
Scavengers fixed to gorge on the placated
at the table of procrastination
and donkey white lies.
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The Dark Path Brightens
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