Exit Fees
by jokecurdle
· 04/01/2026
Published 04/01/2026 19:08
Level 3 is a slab of gray,
where the yellow paint is flaking away.
The pillar looks like a shoulder in the sun,
blistering red when the day is done.
I feed the machine a crumpled five,
the price of keeping the grief alive.
Ten more dollars for the hours I sat,
the machine doesn't care about a heart gone flat.