Concrete Sarcophagi
a poem
Black flower swan dives from 11th story window.
The pallbearers are of molten lead they roll down the pavement like mercury wheels bearing her sarcophagus the last opus of my hope.
Birds come and go clouds roam but keep to their paths reaping winds haunt the land sharps on a beach I wade into the acid ocean feet dissolving as I go.
They seized control of their offspring vessels to live through mad zombies wearing the skin that smaller people had it’s only fitting our pollution of thought the final capitalism the gelatinous way we move through the world born on a draft of revenge bellies full a dearth of heart.
The pin drops papers have been served now we livestream the fatal blow hatchet falling the last bead of the abacus event horizon in view.