Kiss the light wildly; let it slide blinding,
Sash over what’s left over when running with wet mortar.
Dance fruitless with uses of indifference in the fuses,
Waiting for lightning to widen the tightened lying.
Smash in fury and in theory the wall will surly fall.
But stand on those banging hands old man, and watch the world grow tall.
a disaster, faster
always behind
creation is evisceration
the will to be worried
are you waiting for destruction? good.
its coming
a pointless pretense
for aged beggars and caged crows in flight
look down?
why? to celebrate your own destruction?
only a madman would.
so what does that make you?