One of those malfunction days
A day when you won’t work
Accomplish nothing, then the sun sets

You live for sunsets
Even here, in exile
They’re the time to let go

What else are we here for
But to dance in some forest
Or anywhere anyone’s dancing?

A dry day, uninspired day
Maybe not even worth editing
Dead day in the house of the dead

Sky is no shining pink this sunset
Even the clouds
Are tired of keeping up appearances

Only animals can always strive
They have the instinct to live
While we half want to cease

...To die

If you could wander back into your past, what would you change?
Just one night perhaps, that one night
Or two, or three, at most

Beyond that it spirals out of control, there’s no end to it
You’d spend your whole life
Fixing details

Was it one night? Perhaps it doesn’t work that way, the wrath of the Gods
Maybe the only way
Is to be reborn

Or perhaps it was simply Saturn’s passing mood, a little game
One chooses to play in a moment
But could choose otherwise

Surely they were tired of this unclean one storming heaven
On ***** wings
With blackened feathers

His twisted mind a-raging, half-orphaned, phantom-visited
No, wait, hold on, “nobody
wants to hear about your mind”

Or was it how you embraced the holy flame-haired monster
Stole her from someone
Who really needed her?

That was the crowning moment of a history of dividing
Dividing, debauchery, desecration
“Filthy English!”

Thus came Kali with her garland of skulls, driving out empires
Of savages from the Holy Land
Of Bharata

Which you, tentacular, were telepathically invading
With your retinue of Tibetan Wrathful Deities
From the Book Of The Dead

...Undead One