'So what am I to phase this mortal ennui with,
what tools remain to combat this crudely fastened
debris of our human examples?'
'Insult the base collusions that hold you here at your peril,
for the fault lines show, they unveil the haughty creases of
damnation with every fostered lilac vision-
in death, chandeliers blacken & stew & lie like pissed-off
pageant follies, adorning the nocturn's naughty air-
forward with your sultry sins- singing in dulcet recoils-
wording their woolen night-terror triumphs with arrested gall
& resistant wit-
social circles swell with disinterested conference calls
informing the heart's mimicry of its feint interpretations-
in haste our derelictions protrude as our lusts liase-
offering corrupt smiles- with our failed faceless attention
hoardes, ripe with regularity-
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