The Accountant

There’s nothing left to balance. I praise

this institution of bodies with the build

of Atlas failures, brains the consistency

of coyote nocturnes. With credit as straight

as your spine, there’s nothing left to pay

but the fees to even vertebrae

and the tax on crackling neurons.

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Published by

Jenna

Hello, fellow bundle of nerves and flesh! I'm a simple little being who's half-poet, half-scientist, and all gelatinous chaos. Sort of like an illogical marshmallow. If you'd like to learn more, please seek out the "First Impressions" page. Thank you for the visit, bundle friend.

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