Words
Your lucky number’s gonna change soon
I see a hand on a gun in the rear-view
gratitude smells like chlorine in our tap water
but we’ve been in the market too long for a taste we’ll never afford
good news is mostly propaganda
so celebrate the humiliation of the enemy
a glass to the pink sky and the blue stars
You too can be furious with prejudice for less
heads in hands at the bus stop
On the first day of Christmas
12 Walmart sleeping bags
and a frozen sister-in-law with no legs
little boys inside big boys inside the comment section
they won’t pass the blunt but are addicted to
mansplaining over the algorithm
while we watch the leaves hang on until New Year’s
Does this machine kill fascists?
the teachers cut an Angel-shaped hole in mine
with no God to fill it but an Angel
this machine is still afraid of its eyes in a mirror
Playlist
December 12, 2025
arden briar smith