The End

Needed to make use of the words: Panic, Subway, Notebook, Language, Economy, Crouch, Fist, and Environment.


The subway approaches my door like clockwork,
on the hour,
every hour.
My fist clenches my blankets
as the light crouches into the keyhole.
Five seconds of panic,
Twenty-one seconds of flight.
Its a spindle of language,
turned into a collection of sentences.
Two-thousand-and-twelve words my bookshelf-notebook
will never invite in.
Economy, Environment, Destruction.
Burn it to the ground.