see the shrouded masses
gilt in the gold of expectation
making emperors weep
for the beauty of nakedness
faces lost behind false faces
marching blind looking for Elysium
in the drug of the weekend drunk
strip it away
burn it away
better exposed than exhausted
with the armor of it all

Minutes and hours
have stolen something
by filling the empty spaces
in my newly minted mind
a theft by the leaving of
unwanted gifts of experience
till I would rather know nothing
than the burden of knowing anything
anything at all

Sun blazes bronze
like too much joy
crashing killing into
this dry crust of ground
leaving it wanting
for the ocean’s arms

Sometimes
there is good
in the smothering black
in the pressing storm
that promises drowning
for new drenched birth
a fresh washed earth
green shoots of new growth