i hate you, time

i hate you like how

i wake up in the crusts of

five week old arizona iced tea and

crumpled, sour

string cheese wrappers

at thirteen 'til two with

two angels in an early morning

devil masquerade belting out

an architectural colossus of

a capellas about freedom and hymns

of artillery shells fireworking underneath

astroturf and boxerbriefs

shoved somewhere between time in the

sixty-second dimension and

the burning LEDs of sunless

early morning blankets

of bon iver and grumbling transmissions