on the third night they bled out
conciliatory memes to confuse
the peacemakers
wrapped their self-inflicted wounds
with vapid conversation
and weak free trade coffee
messed bandages evidence of Gaia's
shitty baby
the wailing made the working class scream
fuckery is a noun only recently unleashed
from the secret
shadow vaults of cabalist clowns
there is no time no future no past
you were dead
before birth alive before death
the final sentence of a profit (prophet)
speaking of spending
souls on consciousness
the moving machines emit volumes
in excited particles
pulled densities and harnessed energies
no prizes for stubbornness
only the glazed longing glances
as vision is sacrificed as tribute
ancient windows altering perception
light and gravity in opposition
created in the stomach of solar processes
