Today is wasted
Not like the others, it
Seems to have a revolution of it's own
Yet, the scent remains the same.

These muscles exude the sangria colored
Muck, these layers of filth jet out like lined walls of a prison cell.
Oh why do they retain this scent.

This cube of cubes I reside in
Where art thou mine Calypso,
How darest thou give teachings
As if your tragedy can give thoughts to we golems of rust.

Stick to staying stuck
Until these brittle cages carry no more
This gluttonous weight
Will we be songbirds once
More.