adjusted in the taciturn night
not well, but well enough
to make roses bleed once more
wandering sidewalk cemeteries
littered with tired fliers
and naked curses
these days feel like
a sloppy television game show
most of us are
half asleep
and awarded nothing but
flat paper stars
as we listen to the songs
of lazy strangers
crawling under captured moments
of tarnished imagination

purpose planned in a divine denial
marching to the inevitable disruption
of contaminated sleep
and inside locked and dimly lit domiciles
we are overdue and waiting for
a symphony of subtle submission
desperate bombs of poverty
wait anxiously to detonate
in the chill of painful ecstasies
as new beasts
of this offensive reboot
prepare for another sad arrival

heroes are born
and live
only to die
and from a hungry window
i watch neutral cats
sit on the backs of stray dogs
many of which are without
heart or consequence
and only a few know
the truth of insanity
as they howl
in these dirty
and calculated streets
for justice and atrocity