Even if one thousand
Pages were fluttered out
By ****** and crippled hand

It would turn toward
The eyes and ears
Of man to busy
To lazy
To eager
To star struck
To mind numb
To look for the book
From which it came

Great hands ears eyes noses
Prose imaginations now in woe
A fine finger presses upon the blank ink
Warrior in black and white robes

Who cares if the times have changed?
The reason why we are all here
Sitting and staring up and up
Is now being leaked like lost blank ink
Into the mainstream smooth as metallic plastic

A note worth mentioning
Like Mozart's final breath
A touch of death never hurt anyone
It only made them realize
The elevator only has

So many floors
So many buttons
So many places on can hide

And as the dawn wavers
The dung beetles carry out their wears
Watching the sun hit the pastel buildings
Crumbing in front of their weary eyes

A telling note
For the quill
The pencil
The pen
The ****** finger nail and
The spit

Now
We sit in plush red velvet sits
With yellow puffs of butter
Watching **** bounce
Men scream
And children wandering as if blind
Wondering what it was like
To dream