Bring on the end; I'll laugh to the grave!
This system and words are utterly insane.

Why must I claw and clamor for bread?
With how it's going, we're better off dead.

There's nothing to do, but sit here and laugh
as people debate what's gold and what's chaff.

Desires clung to and procured -- pahtooey! --
it smells like manure in the gardens of fool'ry.

It's the same; **** the rich, and the poor!
With rice in my dish, I need nothing more.

Beyond the insect hives,
with crystal hearts in hexagonal designs.
Beyond the jeweled terraces
of fractured, shifting carapaces.

Inside the mind of time's design --
this fragmented mosaic of mine.
Inside the bedroom of she
whose sole desire's the end of me.

There is but a breeze bearing a curse;
the beginning of my thoughts, undone:
"The truth behind the universe?
One does not equal one."

Draw up your skirt, O woman of temptation.
Then watch yourself flirt with no contemplation.

Attracting the slack-jawed -- the ignorant ***,
whose thinking is drawn to *** as you pass.

Set bare your breast to these "love-confessors"
and bare all your flesh to the fangs of oppressors.

Make them pay for your meals, for your wine and delight.
Then let them steal you away in the night.

Put feathers in your hair -- the peacock's vanity! --
Then watch the men stare and whisper profanity.

Wear lace and sheer clothing; hide not from their gawking.
Then listen, with loathing, to the non-sense they're talking.

Perfume yourself in myrrh, draw all senses in your direction.
Then drink in their ardour, and their misplaced affection.

Build tall your chancel with pleasure and desires;
play the distressed damsel, O great queen of liars!

You'll find soon enough the emptiness of touch.
You'll call your own bluff, and drop what you clutch.

But until then, sullen temptress, drive yourself from my door.
Leave my sight, but don't distress; I've no want for your flesh any more.

We saw the end coming, but did nothing to stop it;
there's no room for humanity in the margins of profit.

We silenced the dissenters, all the prophets of peace.
We killed all the thinkers, and the questions soon ceased.

We did nothing! Nothing!
We got drunk, in our stupor,

with wine and cheap pleasure, and any synthetic allure.
Plastic and silicon, then anything the men would adjure.

We did nothing! Nothing!
Except create senseless rumors:

"Our God will protect us; we are his love, so pure.
Mother will correct us; she always has the cure."

So, please! Burn this empire down!
Let those ashes fertilize the ground.

Erase all our names from the textbooks we covet.
Then **** on our graves, and grow rainforests from it.

We saw the end coming, but did nothing to stop it;
there's no room for humanity in the margins of profit.

Old friend, quiet lover,
a silent bond like no other,
please let me know it's alright.

For, I find something's awry!
And no matter how I might try,
my thoughts impinge on my sight.

Old friend, quiet lover,
limpid soul beyond this cover,
please give me a reason to fight.

A whisper comes across
of all the time I have lost:
"Why plead for these things, so trite?"

Alas, as I turn my attention
past this reflection --
I find it's your face, alight.

Beauty is limited, the body is fleeting.
Lips, hair, ******* and thighs are misleading.
Ah, but a glance; that wordless connection!
Ah, but a gaze; that soundless confession!

I don't need a figure hand-crafted by God;
no transient physicality to poke and to ****.
Where is the person who will look in my eyes
and learn of my silence without surprise?

Words can't express the depths of existence;
but great walls will tumble with little persistence.
Sit in this quiet, serene place with me.
Look in my eyes, and see what you see.