They say this world is full of life, life, life …


But what I see is mostly slime, slime, slime …


Forests of voiceless and obedient women, men …


They’ll make a noise but leave into the cold night’s neon.
The only hero still seated in the hall, where


So many hands were raised and voices rang true,


Is a lifeless corpse: he continues to stare
a

t the state of affairs, disgusted at the view.

Hence the sort of smile that’s only found

on a dead face, underneath cold eyes,


as the head slowly, slowly wraps around

what’s known about us already – no surprise.