Every step I take
Is to escape the latching chains
Of human utility and efficacy
The working man comes home worn
Sore and hungry (emptiness is the source of vice, sin, and cruelty)

All minds and thus eyes are divine
When when when
Will we realize the limits of our hands and mouths and functions

Please don’t ask because I don’t know
Most are on the corner begging,
Peddling their wares
To the hoarder who retreats back
To a gilded lare

Blank stare blank stare
I know he is not fully there
Divide my mind
Wind up and hurl it into
The open, unresponsive sky
And hope it catches wild
On wings spread wide
And flies flies
Far away from here