We’re citizens of a tribe of sedative-ecstatic savages
We inhabit kingdoms of infrastructure and sewers,
Belligerent beasts writhe under our itchy politeness
Our collective stench is doom itself, but our senses dull it, dispel it.
Concrete towers crawl with drooling leprechauns
Who drown their thirst with yellow puke at two, three, four.
Our eyes have the gleam of rust, their edges leak,
The glare is etched, burnt, stretched over our friendly faces,
As day upon day, our furniture feels heavier, the air
Feels heavier, the droplets from the shower
Feel heavier, the wholesome salad’s lettuce
Feels heavier, the sun starved eyelids
Feel heavier. And the feet, the fucking feet refuse
To do their job because the blasted shoes
Feel heavier. We’re citizens of an aspirin-fueled, vodka-inspired kingdom
Our dreams, desperation, plans, lists, steps,
Molest, maim each other’s naked, bruised, blistered bodies
In well-oiled minds disciplined by syringes of cynicism
Since justice takes time, we scroll down.
We run, lined up, facing fake, projected fields of green,
Inhaling measured gulps of curated, comforting gas.
We curse, cuss, bleat back to health in no time,
Our bodies can only take so much rest.
We the citizens, pledge ourselves,
As one blighted people, regardless of rage, time or reason,
To build empty shells with pilfered eyes and punctured ears,
And mouths sown up with feisty aluminum granola bars
Who pass narrow streets to nowhere, cradled
By fortresses buttressed by gold, that
Beckon, but softly, too softly, so softly, almost not at all,
So we let our bodies be carted, cut, youthfully bled,
Through embellished, stain-resistant, echoing corridors
Between tombs of stacked cement and glass.