bonded to the bravery

of paperwork stacked

up to my neck

like it was breathing

or gagging

grasping for a moment with air

there’s a sickness among us

and it has no fear

in fact, it has no up

and it has no down

it lacks a face

the worst of the condition

is that it has no hope

where there was once a parade

of satisfied tinglings that well

up inside the belly

now is bound with tape

across the lips

and sucked dry from parasites

this is how good men die

without feelings or thoughts

they just become like bone

and the bone like sand

then on a thursday

when the wind calms the sea

they’ll cry

he never tried

he never worked

woe to his loved ones

as anger shuns their hearts

it makes no difference

how tall the paper gets

in a room of whimpering dogs

who feed off the poor

there is a sickness among us

it walks on sharpened branches

and pierces the tips of fingers

like ice when the frost bites

sweeping and setting trees on fire

it buries the sunset

along with it

no more sleeping in the darkness

what good is that

to close your eyes while the

blackness blinds your vision

why not un-see the day

and the mysteries it holds

for a chance to know

the secrets of the night

from the hands of which

mercy can be bestowed.