28 hours packed in
the usual comical bardos
unable to prepare for
layers of privilege
shed tears
wiped away
on the edge
of smog filled
to capacity
18 million
breathing souls
assassin motorcycles
tyranny transports
suicidal proxies
assorted verticals
dating to the stone age
lumbering alongside
naked madness
privilege becomes
part of the situation
becomes the situation
that becomes the highlight
submerged in
clouds of exhaust
shards of eyes
arranged
in abandoned
surrounding
a crumbing ego
snapped
empty
engulfed
in a religious
wall of pesticides
vanished to an asylum
for the criminally insane
labeled iron shards
struggling to extinguish itself
its not sympathy
its a plaster face
against a wonder
hand-to-mouth
indecipherable
(undesirable)
tapping
-its not the system
its the contrast
boxes of fate
and address sisyphus
it is the insane
marching with the insane
pulling back
sheets of room services
to reveal
a constant sea of surface
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