Stay-cation
God bleeds down onto the skyscrapers, And by the time his blood runs deep within the soil upon which you squirm, it has dried, and tastes metallic on your tongue, But no matter is dried ice cream, Frozen long, and long desired. Rocky road. Ice forming around your favorite chunks, A cliffhanger if there ever was one, And the vertigo fools your brain as the city comes into view. Over the ledge there are cars and duct tape grids occupied by seatbelts rubber soles choking throats bitter gasoline - the price has gone up again. It's one of those double-edged swords where inexpensive petrol burns brighter, and patrons are the only ones who get a discount related to their life expectancy. But you know me. I'm the guy to round the corner with a tank that'll break out in hives if it doesn't get its fill, and on that corner will sit competitors, arm in arm, laughing at their friendly game - a Mexican standoff, but everyone is on the same team. They wait for me to pul...