1003

Our bodies are burning
And the water, long gone
But there is wine still
And we will have drink
Yes, we will drink to our own nightmares
Our waking glass of reali-tea

The mask falls off the blind
But we are more lost than ever
And we will burn on
For anger
And for wanting
And for fear
But we will burn nonetheless
Screaming loud to the gods and angels we forsook

Stewards to nobility
But we can’t even save ourselves
And as the pieces crumble
Our scabbing flesh is consumed by what we have birthed
Hand devoured by puppet
And we burn as we fall
Blindly
But the ground is not far

And the children run laughing
Feasting gluttonous on all we have wrought them
Spinning reckless on the wreckage
Swinging on a playground decked with used up time
The weather is not just inclement, it is upon us

And I twist myself apart
Scatter and laugh at the pieces.