Where is the will
To live
To love
To be free?

Has it been
Newspapered over

Bled

Dragged through
Cubicles

The light of existence
Drained from its
Ventricles

What does living even mean

It means:
Clean or pull:
Pack and pace:
Heft or sling:
War work:
Wage jerk:
Twist and turn
And tumble
For a
Dead man’s face

No more time
To hardly think

Just sink it in

As carbon forms
As mind numbs
As blood burns
Down to a thing
Harder, colder, And more unforgiving
Than iridium