scrapped in and thrown out
serpent prisoner
in a classical tragedy
naked and held within
a naive buzz
windows are fogged
with restless heat
as we reach for something more
something beyond this
closed black door

dreams often reveal
the structure
of dangerous company
as feeble souls
lost and raving,
fail recognize the difference
between quiet terror
and passive distraction
so don’t anticipate
the taste of
soft slavery
because weakness is found
in dull, daily living

don’t wait for passion
or revolution under the sun
armed with blood art
we bloom
and speak blasphemy
sifting through stale routines
for scattered signs of life
poor souls weep
with perfect
harmony
under the illusion of exile
and the ones
that are often alone
sing the best