January Ghazal

Fossils fuel zilch. Watch each braggart crimp.

Frowning leaves deep ridges in graying skin.

Tired threadbare loners rush to gulp up land.

They gorge themselves on soft acquisitions.

Their rape comes home to roost in unfresh hell. 

No one can look at or endure the truth.

The word "sophistication" means clean slate.

But guilt infects the skin, goes deeper in.

Rage burns itself out at last, one hopes.

To save the many from the guilty few.