off the top
the elite crust
the zest
that opposes lust.
Sheep, which maintain
a steady heartbeat,
will put us to sleep
and so we pull out
their brains and
implicate who
we are with a
sterile probe or some
magnets.
Rushing to stand still.
Rats scurrying in
a thick dream of
graphical revelations.
I feel misplaced.
And tired.
A bullet to my head
is offensive
and each person
uses his ammunition
to communicate the
same solution
in a different language.
Hundreds of years
from now I may
awake and
finally be
brave enough
to achieve
a restful sleep.
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