Why, we say with perished thought,
of taxes, blood, and groans,
that mortality would be so tedious that
it carries no life of its own
and tunnels through the silken earth
but blind to the unknown?

Mysteries of adrenaline thieves
that pause not in thought but dismay
and ventures through TVs
and cares little of the day
and grinds each crooked tooth
on chemicals that disintegrate.

Words fall to white noise
silence in the ambulance siren's cry
office buildings tumble down
earthquakes blink their eye
but little learnt of each tragedy
is forgotten with every day go by.

Settled and careful, intent on contempt
dull faces, dull pencils, and stars
with dying fires eat our hearts,
numb our minds in taxi cars
hell bound or heaven sent,
each dream left in precise shards.

Demolitions, wars of attrition
the unborn turn in their graves
fighting for freedom and return
not knowing they too are slaves
manufactured like machines
holes in souls we call caves.

And I'm not cut out for blood lust
or ***-and-drug life ecstacy
or thinking that a little violence
is what sets a man free
or caged up by withdrawls
in mind's shattered harmony

I'm not cut out for half-assed heartbeats
faked smiles, sold by the pound
frozen footsteps, weighted measures
eyes digging deeper in the ground
or highway lullabies choked down
or dying in life without a sound.