The whole world
is upside down
inside out
topsy-turvy
off the rails
off the tracks
off the edge
over the abyss
in a ditch
cuckoo crazy
shotgun to the head
brains on the wall
ripped apart
torn asunder
twisted, contorted
dilapidated, disconfigured
decomposed, decadent
distraught, stressed out
broken hearted
bottomed out
bottles up
down the drain
last refrain
last trip around the sun
cycling out
going blind
organs failing
body flailing
lungs collapsed
torture chamber
signing off
sayonara
saying goodbye
hit the floor
with a thud
with a whimper

Scott Thomas Outlar survived both the fire and the flood – now he dances in celebration while waiting on the next round of chaos to commence. Otherwise, he keeps things fairly chill, spending the days flowing and fluxing with the tide of the Tao River, laughing at life’s existential problems, and writing prose-fusion poetry dedicated to the Phoenix Generation. His work…