Wash It Down Poem by soren Barrett

The rotting corpse of a fragrant rose
sprouts from ditritus of a peaceful war
watered with the talking bullets of thought
empty shells on a pharmaceutical shore

The insanity of normality
infects news tattered brains
to stampede in lockstep
toward a black hole of inevitable gains

A doily of crocheted lace
woven by Arachne's hand
portraying beauty and disgrace
painted in ichor on time's sand

excreting the stench of neutrality
from the maggots of modern road kill
An infants sigh, intrauterine smile
Technology's morning after pill