Verse For The Self-Pitying Construction Worker

The open road is closed

A blackened fence

Upon the road imposed.

That sweeping sense

Brown landscape bound inside

A blackened fence

We pass a blood-stained hide

All roads echo

Brown landscape bound inside

Roman hero

Stomping blurry faces

All roads echo

Dopplerred queueing races

This narrowness

Stomping blurry faces

Unemptiedness.

The open road is closed

This narrowness

Upon the land imposed.