Each day, new blessings—
like how the bombs haven’t yet gone off, zombies haven’t taken over our streets,
the four horsemen are still socially distancing themselves from the apocalypse.
Manson’s ghost hasn’t carved X’s into the foreheads of our best intentions.
The machines of sorrow having completely broken down into inconsolable fits of tears.
The wonderful drug they call love hasn’t completely failed in clinical trials.
New blessings amidst these crazy-making days. The tightly wound clocks of us,
still keeping time.
RichRant 