eric sundin

We’re wilting in complacency’s shades
lost in gutless conformity
On frequent refrigerator raids
indulgent of deformity

Lassitude has kept us callow
from solidarity strayed
Each morning’s fresh hue turns sallow
by torrid crassitude swayed

We’ll be found too light when weighed
our erstwhile souls debased
Surely this whole jam self-made
with gone sour aftertaste?

edited 01/16/23 1635