the days wear decay in the
dialogues i'm trapped,
i'll sacrifice my dying friends,
their faces trade for masques--
means sharpened into rusted points
to meet their grisly ends,
they know the old are going and they
rush to take revenge.
"the girls have all grown phalluses
and paint their faces gray,
the blacks forgot the revolution--
they're waiting for their pay,
the jew is numb from hands he's wrung
recalling his bad luck,
hoping against the deeds they've done
that their dreams are yet to come."
in turn i've built an empire
reflected in the lakes,
that horizon line may limit you
but it falls right at my gate.
material can beckon you but
cheap filling never sates--
across my heart these last few words
the blind can't penetrate
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